


You Say You Want a Revolution

by ScienceGeeky



Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Renaissance, Drama, F/F, F/M, Humanstuck, Magic, Rebellion, Renaissance Era, Revolution, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-11
Updated: 2013-12-08
Packaged: 2017-12-26 06:52:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 33,022
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/962890
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScienceGeeky/pseuds/ScienceGeeky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The nobility and the monarchy condemn the magical and the psychic, even though they often exploit the magical resources within the kingdom. But the Magicals, a secet society of those who posess magic, are fed up and ready to fight back.</p><p>Title taken from the Beatles song Revolution.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Nepeta: Begin

**Author's Note:**

> This is Humanstuck because horns seem to be pretty unique to each troll (as far as I can tell) so it would be really hard to run away/fake a death/hide your identity if you were a troll. Thanks to my little sister for the idea!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Edit/update: Each chapter will now begin with a creepy little nursery rhyme! Inspired by a cretive writing assignment. (Vivant tableau refers to tableau vivant, a style of dance that involves holding a certain pose for a long time).

_Pretty white dresses all in a row_

_Each and every one aglow_

_And you’re hoping you’ll just outgrow_

_In this endless vivant tableau_

 

==> Nepeta: Begin

You’re not exactly the highest in society, but you aren’t very low, either. Your name is Nepeta Leijon, and you are nobility. You are friends a lot of other people, many of whom aren’t royalty. You’re just unlucky that way.

Most people would say that you are lucky to be noble, but you could not agree less. You hate it. Everyone thinks that you are an only child, but that’s not true. Your older sister, Meulin, ran away from home because she was (and is) mage. Your parents are counting on you to be their heir.

For some reason, many of your friends have followed her. Your friend Kanaya is a sylph. Terezi is a seer. Of course Feferi is a witch. But just as many stay with nobility. Eridan is a prince, Equius is an heir, and someone very dear to you is a knight.

You have always known that you are a disappointment to your parents, because you are a girl. They wanted a boy to carry on the family line, but instead they got you and your sister. And your mother has trouble having children, so it’s unlikely you’ll have a little brother. You were always inclined to believe that your parents wanted you married off as soon as possible, but you used to hope that maybe they did feel some genuine affection for you.

But the final straw is when your parents make the worst announcement of your life.

“Nepeta,” your mother says. “I have something to talk to you about. Please sit down.”

You sit, and you have a horrible sense of foreboding. Nothing good can come of this.

“We’ve found an acceptable husband for you and you are betrothed to him.”

“WHAT?” you scream. No, this can’t happen! You are in love and you can’t stand to marry anybody else! “Who?”

“Do you know Eridan Ampora?”

“Mother! You mean I’m betrothed to Eridan? That’s not fair! I don’t love him!”

“Love doesn’t matter. This is about status. You are going to marry him, whether you like it or not.”

“I don’t care! I won’t marry him!” you yell, running away from your mother, your heart in pieces. How can you marry someone you don’t love? Your heart has always ruled your head; how can anybody expect that to change now?

The first person you can think of to talk to is your best friend, Equius. Equius will inherit a large duchy when his father passes away. His brother is a page for a much higher-up family, in hopes of gaining their good graces. Equius isn’t the disappointment you are.

“Equius,” you begin. “I’m betrothed.”

“To whom?” he asks, completely unconcerned with the dramatic announcement you have just made.

“Eridan!” you shriek.

He nods. “Quite acceptable for one of your social status,” he says, nodding again.

“But…I’m in love! With someone else!” you object.

“It is your duty to marry the one to whom you are betrothed,” Equius says, as if he has to explain this to you when you already understand all too well what this means for your future.

“It’s alright for you, you are in love with Aradia,” you point out. He is betrothed to one much lower than him because he won’t pull him down, being the female, and because she had a large dowry. It is rumored that her sister left, just as yours did, and now they are trying to marry off their other daughter before she can follow the same path.

Aradia is your good friend and you hope that she stays away from all that for the sake of her own life.

People hunt down the magical and the psychic around here.

You aren’t magical, like your sister, and you sure as hell aren’t psychic, like Terezi. You are just you. If you were to join the Magicals, you would have to be a rogue or a thief. And even thieves usually have some psychics or magic. You wish you were magical; then you’d have an excuse to run away and leave it all behind. But as it is, you have a responsibility as the only “normal” child and Equius seems to make you feel guilt over that more than ever.

You are in love, too, and that complicates things. You are in love with a knight, who worked his way up to knighthood, despite being of low birth. He is simply the most gorgeous boy you have ever seen, and he is just your age (sixteen). You honestly can’t believe that anyone could become a knight when they’re just sixteen, but he managed it and he is the best there is. You don’t think (you hope) that he doesn’t know what you think of him, but you don’t know for sure.

“Nepeta,” Equius says, bringing you back to reality. “I must go. I have duties to attend to. And you must do the same. Weddings require much planning.”

You nod. “Bye, Equius,” you say, waving.

Back at home, it is clear that your mother is preparing. She is sitting with the seamstress, who is stitching white dresses that are just your size.

“The wedding is in three months,” your mother informs you. You force yourself to nod. It’s not that you dislike Eridan (although you do detest the way he flirts way too much), it’s that you don’t love him. Not to mention that fact that he is head-over-heels for the best witch in the village, Feferi Peixes. You are not like her. He won’t like you, and you won’t like him, and neither of you will have a chance to marry to person you really love.

Also, you really really really don’t want to think about having children with him.  
You refuse to even contemplate the possibility/necessity of having children. Your mother explained it to you once, what it means to be married and lie with someone. There is no possible way to avoid this and you don’t want to think about it.

You feel sick to your stomach.

“Are you alright, dear? You look pale,” your mother asks.

“It’s nothing, Mother,” you say, forcing a smile. You can’t tell her how much you dread having children, how much you fear dying before you know your child (you hear of many of the women in the village dying giving birth), how much you dread the chosen father of your children.

“Well then, come on. We need to begin preparations.” As nobility, you must have a fancy celebration with an elaborate celebration and a huge feast, which you, as a young woman who will soon be in charge of her own household, must help plan.

“The seamstress will fit you for dresses now, and we will decide the menu as soon as you’ve chosen one you like,” your mother says, and suddenly you are hoping that you will grow a foot over the next three months and they’ll have to put off the wedding. You’ll be seventeen by then; maybe you still have some growth left in you? You’re as tall as your mother, though, so maybe not.

You can’t stand being home much longer. Strike that; it’s a house, but it’s not home. You have a home in the village that no one knows about. It is the home of the Magicals, who you wish desperately to be a part of. Your heart rules you; it always has. So this is where you make your home.

It is late at night. You throw the rope you keep coiled under your bed out the window and slither down, making sure to hide the strong cord in the flower beds, lest you be unable to get back in before sunup.

You’re wearing trousers and a loose shirt, so your gender is ambiguous, and a floppy hat and shoes, so your identity as nobility is not known. Your sister will recognize you, though; she can spot you out of a crowd of a thousand noble women.

You approach the modest house on the outskirts of town and knock thrice, then once, the four times. The door opens a crack and, recognizing you, Jade opens the door the rest of the way. “Nepeta,” she greets you. “How are you?”

“Horrible,” you answer, a tad overdramatically.

“Why? What happened?” Jade asks. She is not psychic; she is simply magical. Only sylphs are both.

“She is betrothed,” Rose answers, joining you and Jade. “To Eridan Ampora, I believe.”

You nod.

“And you are in love with someone else?” Rose asks, tilting her head slightly to the side.

You nod once again. “I can’t see that; it is very well hidden. Who?”

You shake your head. “I can’t say,” you force out, trying to compress the tears. You bury your head in your hands and sob, your shoulders shaking as the salty water trickles down your cheeks. You need to make your head take over your heart; letting your heart rule is killing you.

“Where is my sister?” you ask. She is a mage; surely she can help you.

“She is not yet back from the village,” Rose answers.

“Who is here?” you persist.

“Kanaya,” Rose answers immediately. You know that Rose left her town because she loved other women the way you love men. You see nothing wrong with this, but others did, so now Rose and Kanaya are a secret.

“Sollux, Terezi, Feferi, Damara, Kankri, and Aranea,” Jade adds. “The others are on missions. Porrim is in another village.”

“Isn’t Porrim a maid?” you ask. You have always wondered this.

“She is, but she is part of us,” Rose answers, somewhat cryptically. But you understand that Porrim is like you; she is not a Magical, but this is her home.

Many of the others are thieves or rogues; those who work in the night to fulfill the magical destiny in their blood. Mages and sylphs and witches and seers work in the village during the day, selling herbs or food or medicine in the front but magic in the back. They are the ones who sleep during the night and work during the day. If you were a Magical, you would be one who is awake at night and sleeps in the day.

“You still have the chance to join us if you like,” Jade offers, and you can tell that her offer is as sincere as it has been every time before.

“I have a duty to my family,” you say. “I am the only child left and my mother can’t have any more children. I wish I didn’t, but…” You sigh. You feel horrible. You feel like a horrible daughter and a horrible friend. You feel sick and sore, and your friends who try to help just make it worse. You know they mean well, but you just can’t help how much you wish you could disappear from your old life and be a Magical for the rest of your life and it hurts.

The knock on the door. Thrice, once, four times. Jade opens the heavy wooden door again to see Aranea, who looks exhausted. “I was nearly caught,” she says, stumbling in. She clearly needs healing. “I need to see Kanaya.” None can use their powers on themselves. Rose nods, walking upstairs. There are eight bedrooms for fifteen people; however, four of those people sleep in the day. Maybe one day, it will be five of sixteen.

You hear clinking from the kitchen and realize that someone is cooking. The smells fill the room, which is lit by the candles the thieves steal, and the realization that someone is cooking for their own family aches your heart. Your mother has never once cooked for your blood family. You have never cooked for the family you wish you were part of.

Aranea sits on the chair in the corner of the room. All the furniture in the house is a mishmash of stolen goods and bought items, creating a horribly clashing mess that you still love. Aranea looks at you curiously. “You don’t have to leave your family to join us.”

“You are my family,” you answer.

“You don’t have to leave your duty, then. You can do your duty during the day and work with us at night,” she reinforces.

You shrug. You’re too tired to think about it now. You need sleep and food before you choose. She sees your thoughts and responds aloud. “You have time to choose; three months before you have to leave.”

You nod. You’ve been nodding a lot today.

“The meal is ready,” Kankri calls from the kitchen. You smile, ready for food. Kankri is an excellent cook in fact, he is much better than any of the girls here. You find this vaguely ironic.

Tonight’s meal is the usual: vegetable stew with some bread and water. It seems that either one of the daytime workers served a noble or one of the nighttime workers is very clever, because today there are potatoes, too, mashed with milk and magic-churned butter. It is a delicacy you suspect many of your friends have never tasted. You eat delicacies so often that it makes almost no impact on you anymore. Being nobility has its advantages.

Jade, Rose, Aranea, Kanaya, Sollux, Terezi, Feferi, and Damara are at the table with you. You want to wrap your arms around all of them and tell them that they all mean everything to you. With them, you no longer feel bound by your duty and by your blood. You feel freed.

Conversation continues over dinner, shifting to lighter topics. You sigh and smile, happy. All of your dearest friends are here with you, and you feel safe.

But it does not last.

“When does Meulin come home?” Kankri asks. He keeps tabs on everyone who is sent to other villages to search for Magicals.

“Tomorrow night,” Rose answers. “She should be bringing money.”

“I hope so. We are low on food and funds, and one of the beds is breaking down,” Kankri points out.

“What of the Page of Hope?” Aranea asks. Everyone in the Magicals has a name like this; it incorporates the person’s role and their strongest aspect. Your sister is a Mage, and she has a strong heart, so she is the Mage of Heart. You have spent many idle days imagining what your title would be.

“Nepeta, will you please tell us what’s wrong?” Terezi asks. “You’re never this quiet; I’m worried.”

“I’m engaged,” you choke.

“To whom?” Terezi asks. She could see the mind, but not the heart.

“Eridan Ampora,” you answer sadly. “The wedding is in three months.”

Terezi nods understandingly. “We could help you,” she says. “An accident, perhaps?”

“I have a duty,” you tell her. “I’m the only child.”

“But can’t you tell your parents what’s wrong?” Terezi persists.

“I’m a disappointment anyways. What’s the point in making it worse?” you lament.

“Don’t think like that!” Aranea exclaims. “You don’t have to give up anything, or abandon your duty. You can be part of the Underground.”

“What’s that?” you ask curiously. It sounds promising.

“It’s the nobles and royalty who are Magicals. There are many of them. They all have titles, as we do, that match their roles. But...you don’t seem like a Maid to me, and that is the title that applies to you,” Aranea explains.

“I could be a Rogue,” you say. “I could work here at night and at my house during the day.”

“A Rogue,” Terezi says, tasting the word as she does since she is blind. “A Rogue of what?”

“Heart,” you answer. Your heart rules you; love wins over duty for you far too often.

“Rogue of Heart,” Kanaya says, contemplating the title. “It is excellent for you.”

You nod in thanks. “You must choose,” Rose says. “Will you be our Rogue of Heart?”

You think. You look around the table, where all your friends, your real family members, sit. You contemplate your choices. You could follow only your duty, and marry a man you do not love, and live out a normal, miserable life. Or, you could join this group of outlaws and live for real and have a chance to marry the one you truly love. “Yes,” you say. “I’m going to be a Magical.” There is no real choice here; you are going rogue.


	2. Meulin: Hide

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You don't know what's wrong, but you have an idea. You've got a role in this plan and it is dangerous to let anything stand in the way.

_A little girl, a little boy_

_Maybe both? An important ploy_

_Because they don’t know what’s going on_

_And they won’t till the new day dawns_   
  


==> Meulin: Hide

  
Of course you are hiding; you are a powerful mage and the nobles fear you. Throughout your travels, you have encountered exactly zero Magicals. It is quite depressing for you, how little magic is left in the kingdom. Anyone who is magical or psychic is killed almost as soon as they discover their powers. You were lucky. Your parents think you are dead. You have seen the gravestone.

  
Once the knights pass you by, you make eye contact with the one in the back. He has dark hair and blue eyes and is shaped like a girl. This is because he is, in fact, a she in disguise. Latula has been disguised as a man in order to be a knight for about five years now, since she was fifteen. She achieved knighthood at nineteen, very young. You are very happy for her.

  
“She’s not here,” Latula says, scanning the woods. She makes brief eye contact with you and you nod. “And if she is, she’s been eaten alive.”  

  
“How do you know?” an older knight asks suspiciously.

  
“This is my home village. As children, we were told that if we went near the woods, the wolves would eat us,” Latula answers. This is not a lie. However, it is a ghost story that every child in the village tells. As far as you know, no one has ever been eaten alive in these woods. You collect herbs here to sell in the village.

  
The knights ride by. Latula “drops” something and you pick it up. It has something to do with your plan, you are sure. Not your plan specifically, but the plan of the Magicals. It is something you have been working on for many long years, and this may be the year you finally pull it off.

  
You stash the note in one of the pouches that decorates your mage’s costume. You all wear peasant clothes, because you don’t have much money, but you have many pockets for herbs and other things you sell. A real mage needs nothing besides their mind to perform magic. Herbs are for the witches and sylphs, who brew up potions with healing powers. However, you do gather herbs because you are the most accustomed to the forest.

  
After a long trek, you arrive at the house. You knock thrice, once, then four times. Aranea opens the door and you enter. You are exhausted.

  
Everyone is at the table for the late night meal, including your sister. You gather Nepeta in your arms in a tight embrace. Every time you leave, you fear that she won’t be there when you return. She hugs you back just as tightly. “I have something to tell you,” she says.

  
You are suddenly terrified, all your relief vanishing in an instant. You nod and she continues. “I’m betrothed to Eridan.”

  
You understand her sadness over this. She had told you who she is in love with; the young knight who seems to try to prevent bloodshed. But she is not done.

  
“I’m a Magical,” she says. “Officially. I’m the Rogue of Heart.”

  
She seems excited, and you can’t blame her. She can now officially be part of the plan. “Oh, I’m so proud of you!” you exclaimed, hugging her again. You release her and rest your hands on her upper arms. You are about four inches taller than her, because you take after your father and she takes after your mother. You share your father’s startling green eyes and dark hair against pale skin, a striking but (many tell you) beautiful combination. You are fairly tall and curvy (like your paternal grandmother) and people say you are the prettiest woman in the village. Your sister is also curvy, but less so. She is short and very thin, although her face is rather round. She had wide, olive green eyes that border on hazel when the light is right. Her hair is dark, but more a chestnut color, and short. It is curly, very curly, and very thick. She is also pretty, but you think that she will be just as gorgeous as people say you are (you don’t properly believe them) when she is older. She is convinced that she won’t grow or change any more, but you didn’t arrive at your full height and shape until you were nineteen. Then, you think, she will be a heartbreaker.

  
People say you are a heartbreaker, but you don’t do it on purpose.

  
You are married, secretly. You see your husband quite often, for a Magical. You see Kurloz at least once a week, usually more. He is a prince, and he was betrothed to Latula before she faked her death and became a knight.

  
You were betrothed, once. To a man named Cronus. You never knew him, but you are certain now that you’ve met him that Kurloz is the one for you. You believe that Cronus is the older brother of Eridan, which means that your parents are trying to marry your sister into the same family. You aren’t surprised, honestly. But your sister is so sad, just so sad, to be engaged. You wish that it didn’t have to be this.

  
You are suddenly exhausted and nauseous. It must be that long walk. You sit down on the old couch and double over, a technique that always cures your nausea. The pounding in your stomach disappears and you stand up too quickly, getting dizzy in the process. You really need to eat something and get some rest.

  
“Three months,” your sister says, and you know she means until her marriage. As the Mage of Heart, you know that you must do everything you can to prevent this.

  
You see the deep misery in your sister’s eyes and you remember how much you hated being betrothed. You were a disappointment to your parents, and she must feel like she is too. You wish you could beg her to remember that your parents love her, and that she should never feel like she is in the wrong for being female.

  
“Meulin,” Kankri says. “Was your mission a success?”

  
“No,” you answer. “No one. More and more Magicals are being killed even before they grow out of their powers.”

  
“Anyone under the age of eight?” Kankri asks. Eight is the age by when most people outgrow any powers they had. Maybe half of all children are born with magic, and of those, nine-tenths outgrow it by eight. By ten, about one or two in a thousand still have powers. If they haven’t shown anything by seven, they don’t have any.

  
You often used to hope that you’d outgrow your magic.

  
Your sister never had any. You don’t know why, but she has no magic, just her own (very impressive) skills.

  
“We must prepare for the meeting tomorrow,” Aranea says. Kankri is the leader, but Aranea does much of the logistics and Meenah much of the actual leading. “We best have a nice meal, all the chairs out, and the plans out for all to see.”

  
“It is past eleven,” Terezi says. “We ought to get to bed. We can prepare tomorrow.”

  
“The night workers will be home at three,” Rose says. She can often see the future. “They will have enough for said meal.” She turns to your sister. “You will begin work tomorrow.”

  
She smiles brightly. “I’m glad to be able to help,” she says.

  
“Meulin,” Rose says, turning to you. “When did you last see your husband?”

  
“Yesterday,” you answer promptly. You don’t forget those visits. Rose nods, and you wonder what she’s talking about.

  
You yawn as the meal finishes. “I’m exhausted,” you say. “Let’s go to bed.”

  
The table nods a consensus. “You can sleep here tonight,” Aranea says to your sister. “You need to be back by when?”

  
“Nine,” she answers.

  
Because the house is supported by magic, the rooms are stacked in odd ways. In addition to the eight sleeping rooms, there are two rooms for the magical children who seek refuge here. You are the only one who doesn’t share, simply because your room is the smallest. But you will share with your little sister tonight.

  
You drag yourself up the stairs to the last room on the top, where you sleep. For some reason, you could just pass out. And you really have to go to the bathroom. You’re feeling really miserable, and you could just break down and start sobbing right now.

  
What is wrong with you tonight?

  
When you wake the next morning, your sister is gone. Rufioh and Vriska and Roxy and Meenah are asleep in their respective rooms. As usual, you are the last to rise. You check your pouches for your supplies. Everything is there. You are ready to face the day.

  
Strike that. You are not ready to do anything. You feel worse than yesterday and—oh shit, you’re going to vomit. You rush downstairs and out the door, slamming it behind you. You double over in the bushes and vomit until there is nothing left in your stomach, and even then bile burns your throat. Even more tired than before, you sprawl on the grass and stare up at the sky. What has brought this on?

  
“Are you ready, Meulin?” Sollux asks. He is the other mage, therefore he works with you. You have four stands in the market: medicine and sylphs, clothing and seers, herbs and witches, and food and mages. You don’t know if you should go into town today, but tonight is the big meeting, in which you will discuss the Plan. You need money to get food for this.

  
You wipe your mouth and wash up inside. Many of your friends give you concerned looks, but you ignore them. A horrible fear is growing the back of your mind and you know already that it would be the biggest problem that the Plan has ever encountered. You can’t afford to let your worries be known.

  
“Come on,” Sollux says simply. He rarely speaks much, preferring introversion. You work in the front of the shop, because you are social and extroverted. He does the behind-the-scenes work, and it works beautifully. Your stand runs very well.

  
It isn’t until the afternoon that you finally get magic business. The first person to arrive is a young man who looks sullen and is clearly upset. You can see the tear tracks on his face.

  
“I’m here to see someone about Games of the Heart,” he says. He wants to see you, then.

  
“That would be me,” you say. Mages, games, it’s a clever little anagram Sollux came up with. “Come with me. What is this about?”

  
“My wife,” the man says stiffly. He probably thinks she is cheating; don’t they always? But something about that doesn’t quite fit with your observations of him.

  
“Sit,” you say kindly. You sit across from him at a small table. You look at him and gesture for him to begin.

  
“My wife has been in labor for two days,” he says. “Can you deliver the child and save my wife?”

  
“I can save no lives,” you say. “My magic cannot revive the dead or bring back one from the brink of death. I can likely deliver the child; the rest is up to your wife’s constitution.”

  
He sighs, nods. You can see that he loves his wife. You place your palms face up on the table and close your eyes. This is how you can work magic the best. You can deliver the child, because a child is so full of love, but you are nearly certain that the mother will die.

  
You squint your eyes shut as you use your magic to free the child. You see how pale and ill the mother is and you wish you could help her, but she is too close to death for you to help.

  
“The child is delivered,” you finally say, opening your eyes. The man leaves a sum of money on the table and you count it before tucking it into a hidden pouch under a rag rug.

  
Sollux nods at you as you take over the front of the shop and continue your work.

  
Your work can be very saddening sometimes.

  
On the other hand, is the work of a mage ever happy?

 


	3. Latula: Lie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've been pretending to be a man so you cna be a knight for five years now. It's just a matter of time until they discover your secret.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is a quick update because I wrote the first three and half chapters in about two days. After this they'll probably every Friday or so.

_Little secrets whispered ear to ear_   
_All too far and all too near_   
_Secrets that keep you safe at night_   
_And wrap you up nice and tight_

  
==> Latula: Lie

  
You’ve barely told anyone the truth for the past five years; why start now? No one knows that you are actually a girl. You dress and use the bathroom alone. You pretend that you are betrothed already. You are very careful to wrap your binding tightly every day; you are relatively flat anyways. Your armor and loose clothes conceal you female figure, though you were always shaped like a boy anyways. You don’t think anyone has yet noticed that you are female. It’s been five years now; someone would’ve said something.

  
You know, in your heart of hearts, that this can’t last. someday, you will be discovered and have to run for your life. That applies to both your gender and your role in the Magicals. You have been a knight for about a year and a squire for four before that. You have contact with the other Underground members. You heard rumors that a new girl was joining as both an Underground and a Rogue. You should be getting confirmation or denial of that tonight.

  
Before you take off the heavy armor, you scan the area for anyone who might recognize you. Your cropped, dark brown hair and bright blue eyes make you distinctive, but not like Meulin or Kurloz. No one is around and this means that you can change into pajamas and sleep. You are really very tired.

  
Your unwrap the tight binding and change into your old clothes from when you first ran away from home. You haven’t grown much since then, but you have added a couple inches to your height. You fall into bed and wrap the covers tightly around you, to keep you warm and to hide you if anyone happens to come in. You are ready for a good night’s sleep.

  
The Plan is conspiring against you tonight, though. No sooner have you begun to drift off than the only person in the palace who knows your true identity enters. Mituna knocks on the door thrice, once, then four times. You drag yourself out of bed to open the door and find out whatever the message is.

  
“Rogue of Heart,” Mituna whispers. “Joins tomorrow. Will not work with directly.”

  
You nod, barely bobbing your head, but it is visible in the dark. Mituna will inherit much when his parents die, but he doesn’t want it. He is part of the Plan. In a sudden fit of affection, you wrap your arms around him in a hug and release him after just a couple seconds. He smiles, just a bit, and disappears into the night.

  
You think he is the one in the castle who you will miss the most.

  
You know you don’t have much time. It is inevitable that you will be discovered, and all you can hope for is that you will carry out your mission by then. You don’t make close ties with other people here who aren’t Underground, because they might discover you and because you will have to leave soon enough. Your mission is the most important thing, too. You don’t have time for making friends with the heavy weight you carry.

  
The other two knights share your mission are actually male. They are much younger, though, and therefore in more danger. The younger a knight, the more suspicion he is under.

  
You, luckily, are twenty-one and therefore old enough to no longer be under near surveillance.

  
If you were younger, you would never have survived this long.

  
You’re all in the same boat here.

  
It is far too late to consider going home to the Magicals, but not too late to work on the conspiracy. Your job is to plant the seeds of malcontent in the ranks of the knighthood. You are not about thievery and mind games to get your job done, either. Especially mind games. You have been messing with your acquaintance’s heads for a long time now. You tell creative lies and half-truths and use the magic that lurks in the very bottom of your subconscious to make them believe you.

  
The knock comes again. Thrice, once, four times. Mituna has come and gone; this must be one of your knight allies. They do not know that you are a girl and you’d like to keep it that way, so you blow out the candle and wrap a robe around yourself before opening the door. It is, in fact, Dave.

  
“Michael,” he says to you. You have no idea what prompted you to choose that for your pseudonym. Latula is too feminine, so you can’t use that. And Pyrope is well known as the family with the teenage girl with dark hair and blue eyes who died in the woods. Your name according to the knights is Michael Summers. Even according to the Knights of Time and Blood.

  
“Dave,” you reply, deepening your voice. You’ve had a perpetual throat ache from this for the last five years.

  
“We meet tomorrow night. The usual place. It’s time to begin the Plan,” he says tersely. You don’t exchange many words in the palace; the meaning is harder to discern if you use fewer words. However, your mind knows exactly what he means: the group is meeting at the house of the Magicals. You will still be dressed as a boy, but you will be using your normal voice. It’s not that you try to hide the secret too much, it’s just that the fewer people know, the smaller chance it will be discovered. It’s common sense. You have always relied on your mind to make your choices for you, and even when your heart and you mind compete (which is all the time), you try to use your head. You have been told that you are like a scale: half heart and half head. But you try to let your head win, so you don’t tell your secret. Except to Mituna, who recognized you the second he saw you, even dressed as a man.

  
“Very good. I will see you then,” you reply. He gives you a long, searching look before leaving. You are suddenly very nervous; does he know? Is it not dark enough? Are your clothes too tight? You slip off the robe and examine yourself in the glass window. Your hair has hints of red in it, though not like your sister. Your eyes are a bright blue that borders on teal, exactly the same as Terezi’s. You have a square-ish jaw and your features in general are rather masculine for one of your age and gender. You have broad shoulders and narrow hips, making you shaped more like a man than most other girls you know. You happened into excellent luck when it comes to being a knight. You look fairly masculine anyways, so all you had to do was wrap your chest and chop off most of your hair.

  
Sometimes you wonder what luck Meulin or Damara or Porrim would have trying to be a knight.

  
You dress alone, as always. You wrap the binding extra-tight today, even though that will constrict your breathing more than ever. You arrange your hair to cover your eyes as much as you can and put on your loosest clothing. Today is a day to be disguised the best you can. The meeting tonight is essential.

  
After a grueling day of much hard work, you are ready to make your way home. You climb silently down the stairs to meet the other knights just outside the doors of the castle. You call it the palace ironically, because it is not terribly palace-like. It was Dave’s idea.

  
The walk to your home village and the place you consider home is long, but not horrible. You like walking, but your breaths come hard and fast because you simply cannot get enough oxygen to your lungs. You can feel your heart beating too fast for this simple walk, but it won’t slow. And you refuse to slow down.

  
Thrice, once, four times. The door creaks open and the three of you pile in. “Latula!” Terezi cries, rushing over to you. You haven’t seen her in a year.

  
“How’d you know it was me?” you ask your little sister teasingly.

  
“I can smell you, stupid. You smell like teal and metal.”

  
You smile widely and follow her to the dining room, where Kankri is serving food. You hug him, too, and he’s stiff as a board. “Please don’t trigger me, Latula,” he says. “I dislike being touched without warning.”

  
“Oh, come on, loosen up!” you say, smiling again. “I’m home! We’re all coming home! Aren’t you glad?”

  
He nods once, twice. You can tell he’s nervous. It’s probably because he’s cooking for thirty-two tonight, instead of just fifteen. Wait—the new member (you have a hunch who it is) is part of the home group. Sixteen, then. It’s still doubling. You’d offer to help, but you’ve got things to do, people to greet, plans to make. So you hug him once more and join your sister in making sure everyone who comes is one of the thirty-two people who are Magicals.

  
You can’t afford to make mistakes.

  
The last to arrive is the Page of Hope. You forget his real name. The last seat left is between Feferi and Nepeta, and he sits there. He looks distinctly uncomfortable. You also notice siblings exchanging pregnant looks that seem to convey secrets kept even within the Magicals.

  
A voice in your head startles you. It is Terezi, sending you psychic messages. This rarely happens, but you almost enjoy it, even though you can’t reply.

  
 _Eridan and Nepeta are engaged, but Eridan loves Feferi and Nepeta loves someone else_ , your sister explains. _Meulin and Kurloz are married and something is wrong with Meulin. Equius’s father is very ill; he is set to inherit the duchy soon. Aradia and Equius are engaged and he loves her, but she loves Sollux, who loves Feferi, who loves no one as of presently. John and Dave love men; they may be together. Kanaya and Rose are in danger of being discovered by the village and must be separate at all times in the village. That pretty much covers it_.

  
You nod, and Meenah and Karkat begin the meeting.

  
You don’t care much about the complicated agenda laid out in front of you, but you understand your place in the Plan to overthrow the monarchy. You are to gather knights to your cause however you can. Knights can fight, and this is essential to the secondary phases of the plan. Your goal also is to search anyone who might even have the tiniest traces of magic.

  
You’ve got this.

  
As they continue talking, assigning everyone their job, you observe your friends. Damara, who was betrothed to Rufioh before running away due to her magic and missing him greatly, and later met him when he was part of the Magicals, seems ill at ease. She keeps rubbing her head, as if she’s got a headache, and crossing her arms, as if protecting herself. She is next to Rufioh; perhaps this is the source? Or maybe it’s because she has a dangerous role. Likely both.

  
Mituna looks happy, as usual. He is always happy; that is why you like being around him so much. So many people in this group are downers, but not him. He is as upbeat as you and you really like that. If it weren’t for the fact that it is currently impossible because you are pretending to be a man, under other circumstances you might consider courting him.

  
Maybe you will, once you finish pulling off the Plan.

  
A thought lurks in the back of your mind: the ones before you. You often refer to them as “ancestors” because they started the Magicals. The twelve of them tried and failed to pull off a plan very similar to yours, and the possibility that this could happen to your plan scares you.

  
Also, all of them were publicly tortured and executed, and this is terrifying.

  
You don’t speak of this.

  
No one does.

  
It is your worst fear, both for you and for the ones you love. You sister is just sixteen; if she faced this horrible fate, it would be the worst torture for you. And Mituna, and Kankri, and the other knights, and any one of the thirty-two of you. You sometimes have nightmares of the entire community of the Magicals being tortured to death on a stage in front of the town, your real identity revealed, your sister dying a painful death right in front of your eyes, Mituna writhing in pain, Kankri lying bloody in an iron cage. These images taunt you whenever you let your mind wander too much.

  
You try not to let your mind wander too much.

  
“Latula,” Kankri begins, and you snap your head to face his. You briefly realize that now everyone knows your real name, but everyone knows you ran away from a noble home anyways. Maybe they will assume you just dislike your feminine name.

  
“Yes?” you say.

  
“Your plan. Please tell us,” he says, inviting you to explain what you intend to do.

  
“Well,” you say, unsure of how to begin. “I plan to use mind tricks to make the knights’ loyalty sway from their lords to a desire for independence. I can lie about what the monarchy does in order to draw knights to our cause. In about two months, I plan to reveal the Plan to overthrow the monarchy and slowly get them acclimated to magic. I don’t know what we’ll do if-slash-when the plan succeeds or fails; I guess they can decide for themselves.”

  
“Very acceptable,” Kankri says. He’s normally far more critical that this, but you can definitely live with a quieter Kankri.

  
Your attention shifts back to the people at the table with you. Karkat, your fellow knight, also looks deeply uncomfortable, but in a different way. He is constantly shifting in his chair and glancing left, then right, then at his brother, left, right, and so on. You don’t know much about affairs of the heart, but you think there is something to do with love going on here. You’ll ask Meulin later. Or maybe Dirk, one of those of Heart. You remind yourself that the new member (Meulin’s little sister, Nepeta--you were right) is also one who knows the heart, but you suspect that she is part of this. The way she looks at him--she has some part in this, definitely.

  
Dave, meanwhile, looks completely impassive. He always does. He made himself a special pair of glasses with dark lenses, so it’s hard to tell that his eyes are actually a bright shade of red. You happen to know that he is something called an albino, who has absolutely no coloring, because your sister was briefly betrothed to him before running away herself. He manages to be constantly poker-faced and solemn, though some things will crack his hard shell of apathy. Specifically, his twin sister and twin cousins. It’s very similar to Terezi, who laughs in the face of danger unless it is danger to you.

  
You prefer to just fight, no matter the expression on your face.

  
The meeting ends and a meal is served. No one really labels this late night meal; anyone who is awake can eat it. Kankri prepares four meals a day at various times and sleeps in between. He is also a seer in the stand at the market. You believe that the rogues and thieves take turns cooking lunch. All of you take the vegetable stew, pieces of bread, and potatoes cooked with onions that are offered to you. You are starving.

  
As everyone at the table devours the meal, you wonder when, precisely, the day will come that this will all come to fruition and the final phase will manifest itself.

  
Coincidentally, Kankri has one more thing to say.

  
“The final phase will be in six months,” he informs the whole of the Magicals. “That is when this will all begin and end.”

  
Everyone nods, understanding the seriousness of this statement. Six months. Do it or die, they say. You are going to give this your all and you are going to win.

  
You refuse to consider the alternative.


	4. Karkat: Exist

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're in charge of assembling the plans and you've got this under control, for once. Finally.

_Shout and shout and shout some more_

_Just stop being such a bore_

_Don’t go near the girl with the broken heart_

_And stay close the one with the poison dart_

 

==> Karkat: Exist

Of course you’re existing; you wouldn’t be here otherwise. Sandwiched between the two girls in the room you know have some sort of romantic connection to, who are both sitting next to current or former fiancés on their other side. Nepeta, on your right, has Eridan on her right, and Feferi sits to his right. Terezi sits just to your left and Dave is on her left.

You always seem to get caught up in the most romantic drama of anyone else.

However, you have an important role to play and you refuse to let anything but this guide your choices. Romance is for a time when you aren’t all frantically working towards a desperate, ancient goal, and so close to snatching it out of the air.

Your brother is still talking and you are sick of it. You hear enough of this before he ran away; you don’t care to hear much more. But you guess that as the second-in- command, you should be listening.

Once Kankri finishes gathering everybody’s roles and plans, it is your turn to speak. Finally. You’ll try to keep the cursing to a minimum.

“Alright, everyone, listen the—listen up. We’ve got six months to pull this off, maybe two or three weeks leeway. You all know your schedules for phase one. We’ve got two months for this bit, and it’s pretty fucking important.” There goes no cursing. After the first one, all bets are off. “We can pull this off, no matter how fucked up this idea is or how much you assholes think you can’t, gogdammit. Alright? Alright. That’s settled. So, as for any personal challenges, let’s try to not let shit like ‘love’ or ‘betrothal’ or whatever shit get in the way. Gogdammit, people, let’s try to pull our shit together and fuck over this fucked-up monarchy. Unless you are all even more fucking moronic than I thought, we should be able to get this shit done. Okay. Great. Now I need a summation of the plan, so fucking write them down and give them to me and I’ll figure this shit out. Thank you.”

All you can do for the next fifteen minutes is be incredibly grateful that the thieves (who apparently have no morals; what did you expect of Meenah and Vriska?) stole a fuckton of paper from some noble a while back that’s been hidden under the couch in the living room. Your own plan is pretty basic: you are going to use blood, that is, family, and the bloodshed knights see every day to get them to come to your side of the rebellion because they are being used by their lord and their families are dying.

You might’ve made some of that up, but you can only be so truthful when trying to start a revolution.

After collecting the papers, you tack them to the wall in a sort-of organized fashion and prepare to explain “the summation of the plan.”

At least everyone’s paying fucking attention now.

“Okay. So the knights and the pages need to build up support from any and all higher-ups without actually revealing the whole magic thing. Heirs and princes need to use their influence to weaken the monarchy in any way they can short of murder. And princes, try not to blow up the whole thing, dammit. Maids need to use that fucking moronic ‘women are weak’ shit to their advantage to infiltrate by going unnoticed. Yeah, I know it fucking sucks, but if people are going to be morons, we’ll use it to our advantage. Bards, first off, try not to fuck everything up. Second, use that poetry shit to make pamphlets and get people to work with us. The maids and heirs and princes will help, alright? I’ve got this all up here, you can fucking see it.”

The members of the Underground all nod and you are glad no one’s flipping their shit yet.

“Now for the Magicals. Right. Thieves are obviously in charge of gathering resources, and not getting us fucking caught. I’m looking at you, Meenah and Vriska. You two take too many fucking risks and this whole thing will go to shit. Got it? Good. Seers are in charge of finding out what the monarchy is thinking and also screening any supporters we get to root out traitors. Also keep making money and making people like and trust you. Sylphs are in charge of making sure everyone is healthy and safe, and also getting peasants to like you. Charge less or some shit, I don’t know, but get the normal people on your side. Mages and witches, okay, you guys just need to use your magic however you can to support us, make money, and get support from the artisans. Rogues, you’re in charge of passing information and goods, as well as making sure to direct suspicion fucking away from us and acting like nothing’s wrong. Get it, got it, good. And you can see that here. Got it, Magicals?”

The ones who live in this house nod their understanding. This was a lot easier than you anticipated. People are actually fucking cooperating and you are infinitely glad about this, because you have no patience right now. You are short on sleep, sore from that walk, and exhausted from the crazy workout you got being all knightly today. You spare a moment to note that Michael Summers’s real name is Latula Pyrope (he seems to be Terezi’s brother) and wonder briefly at the femininity in this name. Perhaps that’s why he uses a fake name. Either that or he’s actually a she in disguise and she’s the daughter from the Pyrope family who ran away and got eaten by wolves in the woods.

That second theory sounds pretty ridiculous, even to you.

That’s beside the point. You suddenly hear a voice in your head and as usual, it’s your brother ranting internally while forgetting that you two share a psychic link that he has to work to close. You glare at him from across the room while everyone else exchanges gossip and you wonder what it’s about. Okay, you sort of don’t care, but much of it seems to be centered around Terezi, which you are slightly curious about. Just slightly.

The extra voice in your head suddenly shuts down and you realize that Kankri must’ve finally closed the connection. The worst is when he does this when you’re not here and you can’t do a damn thing about it.

You sit down, tired of trying to explain this plan, and listen in. You notice it’s a bunch of girls, but you’re far too tired to care.

“Your parents. Betrothed you. To Eridan?” Aradia says in a very gossipy tone. “Seriously?”

Nepeta nods, and she looks truly miserable. “I sort of hoped they’d put it off until I was eighteen, at least. I don’t want to get married! Okay, maybe one exception.” You have a hunch who that might be. “I just have to leave the house in three months! That’s even before phase one ends. I swear…”

“I know how you feel,” Aradia sympathizes. “I sure as hell don’t want to get married.”

“I wish I could get married,” Rose laments, and you remember that there is not a priest alive who would marry two women. Rose and Kanaya will likely never be married, and will obviously never bear children. You remember your father’s lecture on the place of women in society (which you heard after meeting the Magicals and therefore had zero impact on you), which is apparently to bear children and please husbands. You think this is utter bullshit and it sort of makes you want to slap someone.

Kanaya takes Rose’s hand. “Myself as well,” she affirms.

After a brief pause, Feferi continues the gossip chain. “I wonder who I would’ve been betrothed to. I mean, my mother is the queen. Probably some man in a foreign land twenty years older than me!”

“I know, right?” Vriska agrees, drawling her vowels. “I’d probably be engaged to Gamzee!”

“Or even Eridan!” Nepeta giggles.

“What about Equius?” Terezi teases.

“Oh no, Equius is all mine,” Aradia teases.

“I wonder what would’ve happened if none of us had magic,” Aranea says idly.

“None of this,” Porrim says, gesturing at the ramshackle house that is held up only by magic.

“We’d all be betrothed or married,” Meulin points out.

“We wouldn’t be friends,” Damara says, and she sounds sad about it. You have a sudden realization that if it wasn’t for magic, you wouldn’t know any of these people.

That fucking voice invades your mind again and you walk over to your brother so you can respond to him. “What is it?” you snap.

“You are aware that you are in charge of the entire Underground,” Kankri says, and it’s not a question and that really pisses you off.

“Yeah, no shit,” you say.

“Language,” he warns, and you remember that in the castle, knights aren’t supposed to swear. Everyone romanticizes knights, but you are disillusioned with the concept. Not that you regret becoming a knight, but there is some stuff that’s just overrated. Okay, a lot of stuff. That’s also beside the point.

“I am very aware that that’s my job,” you retort. “You’ve told me every time you’ve seen me for the past year, plus a few times psychically.”

“Okay,” he says, backing down. “I simply must remind you that your role is essential to our plan, especially because the Underground is a very dangerous role to take on. Latula, whom you know as Michael, is at a greater risk than anyone else.”

“Why’s that?” you ask. He’s just a normal knight, why does this matter?

Kankri looks like he’s hiding something from you for just a second. “I care a lot about him,” he finally says.

“Do you like men?” you ask. Maybe that’s it? Who knows with your brother. He was in love with the Pyrope girl before she died, but you think it’s probably possible to love both men and women.

“That’s not the point,” Kankri says. “Please just protect everyone. Especially him.” His voice sounds pleading and you decide that this is his moment of weakness, of admitting that he needs your help and that he needs companionship.

“I promise,” you say. How can you deny your brother this when he hasn’t shown weakness in the five years since he ran away?

“Thank you,” he says, letting you leave to find your friends.

Gamzee and Sollux are here, as well as Tavros and Equius and Eridan. So is Dave, who you sometimes think loves men like John. John’s here, too. In fact, all of your friends are here, and it makes you so happy to see them all in this safe place. Especially Sollux, who is a Magical and you therefore never see.

Not like you’d ever say that aloud, or even let one of the seers catch you thinking it.

You’ve got to be a lot more careful of your thoughts with the seers around.

You know that they try to avoid just accidentally reading thoughts, but you can feel them nosily poking around your mind sometimes. You feel the sylphs as well, but their magic occupies them. You kind of hate it, but you know if you were the psychic one, you’d never stop invading other peoples’ thoughts.

Sollux is a mage, though, so he’s mostly about zapping sparks around the room and catching them just before he lights the place on fucking fire.

You know that was only once, but it’s not the sort of thing you forget.

It’s getting late and it’s been decided that everyone’s sleeping here tonight. That does mean four people to a room, but you’ve had worse. Your family has an extremely low status and next to no money, so you grew up sleeping on a hard dirt floor every night. In comparison, this rundown old place you call home is like a palace.

To you, it is a palace.

Most of your friends attach similar emotions to the place. Pride, hope, light, life, love. Family. As far as you know, only Kurloz and Gamzee consider somewhere else their home. You don’t have a “real” home anymore, now that your parents are dead. This is the only home you have now.

Your father was impressively stupid about some things (women mostly—the first Magical you ever met was Feferi, well known as the best witch in the city), and your mother died when you were very little, but you grew up on the radical side. Your father taught you about the monarchy, about how it really is, and you grew up wanting to leave it. Then you met the Magicals when Kankri introduced you to the group (though your father did not get an introduction, with his whole misogyny thing) and you discovered the plan to overthrow the government and you thought, what the hell? It’s not like it gets much worse.

You had one foot in and one foot out until you were fourteen and your father died. Then you were a squire for two years, and very recently you became a knight. You enjoy your title as a knight and your title in the Magicals, because you feel they both describe you well.

You notice that one of the thieves seems to have stolen a mirror and examine yourself. You have very dark hair, nearly black, and gray eyes. Your brother and you have the same eyes, but his hair is the color of wood and much less messy. You’d like to think you’re taller than him, but the reality is that you are rather short and awkward.

At least you’re pretty strong.

You turn to the plans you’ve posted on the wall and inspect them as well. Hopefully you all pull this together and actually do something. For you, for your friends, for your parents and brother.

You would really like that.

Terezi pokes your from behind and you screech loudly. That was not a sound any human should ever make, but she has fucking sharp fingernails. She cackles and you blush. You’ve wanted to court her since you met her, but it’s not the time for that with a government to overthrow. You do have a plan for what government you’ll have next: a democracy. You’ve only heard of them, but you have a rare good feeling about this.

“Hey, Karkles,” Terezi says with a sly smile. “How’s knighthood treating you?”

“Fine,” you shrug. “Some if the shit we do is really hard.”

She nods. “No one’s raided our village in about a month. It’s so easy to just pull off a couple accidents!”

“Have you killed anyone?” you ask, horrified. Your father always taught you that you should never kill anyone.

“Don’t be silly!” she laughs, as if that should be obvious. You don’t put anything past the thieves and Terezi. Except maybe the horrifying things the king and queen inflict on this forsaken country. “We make it look like magic is being used somewhere, then they raid it, then when there’s nothing, the authorities leave.”

“This is a really fucking lax village,” you comment.

She nods. “It’s ‘cause everyone here needs our magic. If they killed us, this whole village would die. They all know it, too.”

She’s right. A lot of villages would be long gone if it weren’t for the magic and psychic powers that pervade the world.

You wonder if there are those with magic who work for the royalty.

If there are, you know that you must save them.

No good can come of working for the royalty.


	5. Jade: Run

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You really didn't expect something so problematic to happen just after you started the Plan. No one planned for this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another random middle-of-the-week, I-am-three-chapters-ahead update! For some reason this one is going very fast and I'm sure at some point it'll slow down, but for now I'll probablu update twice a week or so.

_Glows and sparks and lights and magic_

_It’s really not all that tragic_

_Till the men show up at your door_

_Ready with fist to start a war_

 

==> Jade: Run

  
You are late to work (hence the running), which almost always happens. Your name is Jade Harley, and it is a very good thing that Feferi and Damara can pick up your slack, because you always clean up after breakfast and the early-morning meal for the night workers you sometimes call night-breakfast. Kankri does all the cooking; it’s only fair that you clean up. Feferi usually cleans up dinner and the late-night meal that has no real name.

  
You gather you skirts and force your legs to move faster. You have a lot to do today. Your socks, striped black and white, are showing, but you really don’t care anymore. You wear a black skirt with a gray apron over it, a black shirt, a white corset, and bright red shoes. The shoes were a gift from the others when you became a Magical, with a title. You have a hunch that Vriska stole them from her old family.

  
Once you’re in the village, you slow down and force your breathing to remain steady. Hoping no one notices the subtle glow that surrounds you when you use magic, you take in some extra air with every breath until you feel better. Everyone’s magic works differently; yours happens to involve glowing and occasionally making the air smell like burning things when you move things from place to place (you call this teleporting).

  
The glow disappears as you step into the shop where Feferi and Damara are piling herbs, fresh and dried, into bins. Meulin find some of these in the woods and some you grow in the garden behind the house that the magical children you take in attend to.

  
You smile at the other witches and begin work. It is your job to make everything fit where it should, by shrinking or growing objects. You can’t do this too much, or customers will notice when their purchase grows when Feferi packs the herbs in packages. But just enough.

  
Magic doesn’t come into your day for a while. Damara uses hers twice, once to fix someone’s deadline and once to add five minutes to someone’s rest hour. Feferi uses hers, too, once for a man looking to save his wife (Feferi can occasionally pull someone back from the brink of death), and once to tell someone the day they’d die. Feferi has some of the oddest powers, you think.

  
You are finally called to help a woman find her child. You use your magic to scan the whole of space for the little boy, until you finally focus in on him.

  
“He is by the doctor’s office on Tenth and Twelfth street,” you say. “Hurry, before he moves.”

  
The mother nods and runs off to find her child. Their children are most everything the women have in this village and this saddens you. You have the Magicals, the Plan, and your friends. Not to mention that you do not plan on ever getting married. You don’t want children, and although there are men you would like to marry, you do not want to bear children until you are older. Maybe twenty-five. But definitely not sixteen! That’s just crazy,

  
Damara smiles at the customer who has just walked in. She is simply the sweetest girl you know, except maybe Feferi. But unlike Feferi, she is incredibly shy. She never does anything without asking, even though she is five years older than you and Feferi. (There are two “generations” of Magicals; sixteen of you are sixteen and the other sixteen are twenty-one.) You’ve been trying to get her to attend to customers on her own for as long as you’ve known her, and she finally is.

  
“I’d like to see the Woman of Space,” he says.

  
“That’s me,” you interrupt, seeing Damara get nervous. “Come with me. What can I help you with, sir?”

  
“There’s a problem in the village,” he says.

  
“Please continue,” you say, and you are starting to glow from the magic you are preparing.

  
“It is a problem with magic. It is being used.”

  
 _Shit_.

  
“Please hold on just a minute, sir,” you say shakily, trying to force away the glow. You run to the front of the shop and hiss, “He’s a spy!”

  
Feferi freezes and Damara blanches. “No time to lose!” you say, grabbing them by the wrists and pulling them out through the side door. The chase is on.

  
The man, immediately realizing what you’ve done, follows the three of you. _Shit, shit, shit_ , you think. You’ve got to hide somewhere! But you can’t give away any of the others. Maybe some of the others have been discovered, too! It could easily be the sylphs. They are so full of magic.

  
As you run through alleyways with Feferi and Damara, you halt suddenly. “Where can we go?” you pant. Feferi braces her hands on her knees and Damara rests her hand against the wall of a building. “Why can’t you teleport us?” Feferi asks, but it’s not accusatory.

  
“Too dangerous,” you reply. “I don’t know how to transport living things yet. Where?”

  
She nods. “Seers,” she answers. “They are the smartest.”

  
You nod your agreement, barely able to speak. After a long second of rest, you take a deep breath and you’re off running again.

  
You dive into the alley to your right in a vain hope that the men won’t be able to follow you, but they do, of course. You can barely breathe, but neither can you stop to rest. You start to glow as you force more air into your body. You’re even easier to follow now, because you glow more as you help your friends, but you can’t risk stopping for even the tiniest second.

  
You make several sharp turns, but they are right behind. You try turning a corner and pressing your back against the wall around another corner, but that doesn’t work either. You are nearing the sylphs now; maybe they can provide you with some safety.

  
As you pass the sylphs’ stand, you feel a person or two to your left, but you don’t have time to move before they crash into you and all five of your collapse into one heap.

  
“They’re after us,” Kanaya breaths.

  
“Us too,” you reply. “Seers.”

  
“Of course,” Aranea agrees, and the five of your disentangle yourselves and sprint towards a place that might be considered safe.

  
There goes the Plan.

  
You realize that you might not lose them in time and start to panic, but Aranea (one of the first Magicals) has a few tricks up her sleeve. She shimmers your forms into invisibility for just long enough to lose the men as you knock rapidly on the secret door to the seer’s stand.

  
Rose throws open the side door and ushers the five of you into the closet in the back, where you squish together as the men enter the house. Rose or one of the others must’ve warned the mages, because they don’t join you and both suspicious men walk into the shop, so neither are chasing the mages. That is good because Meulin’s been feeling ill lately and you don’t think she could run far.

  
“I’d like to see the light,” the first man, the one in your shop, says.

  
“I’m sorry, what?” Rose asks pleasantly.

  
“The one who sees light.”

  
“I’m sorry, I really don’t know who you mean,” Rose insists politely. “Perhaps you’d like to try on a jacket? We custom-fit them.”

  
“If the one who sees light isn’t here, then what about the ones who see mind and blood?” the second man asks.

  
“If you’re having trouble with your eyesight, I advise you to see the doctor,” Rose advises, faking naïveté.

  
The second man looks frustrated, but he clearly believes Rose and leaves.

  
The other man isn’t so easily deterred.

  
He grabs the neck of Rose’s shirt and pins her against the wall. She immediately pretends to be terrified and whimpers, “Please put me down, sir, I’m engaged to a man named John.”

  
“Where is the Seer of Light?” he snarls, a feral look on his face. You are scared for your friend, and scared that you will be found out. If the seers can’t get you out of this, if Rose can’t get you out of this, no one can.

  
“I don’t know who you mean, please let me go,” she begs, tears trickling down her face.

  
“I MEAN THE ONE WHO USES MAGIC!” he screamed.

  
“No one uses magic here! It’s a horrible abomination!” she answers with false desperation.

  
He lets her go and walks out. “Fine,” he snarls. “But I’ll be back. Mark my words.”

  
He storms out.

  
Rose opens the closet door and the three witches and two sylphs exit. Terezi and Kankri, who were hiding behind the counter, emerge and sigh. “Brilliant acting job,” you compliment.

  
“Thank you,” Rose says, all traces of fear gone from her voice. “I think we may have to get them out of the village.”

  
“An accident?” Terezi suggests.

  
“We could have them ‘promoted,’” Rose counter-suggests. You have all long since stopped letting Terezi arrange “accidents”.

  
“Good idea,” Aranea agrees. “I’ll have Karkat tell them.”

  
Terezi cracks a wide, toothy smile. “That’ll be good. So we can keep our shops then?”

  
“Of course,” you say. “It’s not like this hasn’t happened before.” Because of course it has. You practice magic in a world where only normality is allowed. It would be a surprise if you _didn’t_ get chased around the market sometimes. It just doesn’t happen as often to the seers.

  
Kankri, who had been organizing the clothing knocked over by the angry men, rejoined the group. “I do hope you realize the danger you could put us in if you stayed here for the rest of the day. It would be beneficial to leave your stores empty and secure and perform small acts of magic in secret for a few of the peasantry to win their favor in our revolution.”

  
You think he’s probably right. You can’t do much good to the Plan tied to a stake or locked in the stocks.

  
You know the others worry about much worse, but you can’t stand thinking about the blood on your hands.

  
It’s not just your lives, or the lives of all your friends and family (though those lives are certainly a heavy burden on your shoulders), it’s the entire village. Any one of them could be accused of being part of your plans.

  
It is terrifying.

  
But you can’t worry about that now. For now, you have to overthrow the monarchy. Which is a big enough task.

  
“Come on,” you say to Feferi and Damara. Damara, who looks pale and nervous, nods her head and follows. Feferi, on the other hand, bubbles, “Let’s go work on the Plan!”

  
The three of you leave together, Damara trailing a bit behind. You know that Meenah won’t leave her alone about her old engagement and about her painful shyness, so you’ve been trying to get her to come out of her shell.

  
You’ve got an idea.

  
“Let’s split up,” you say. “I’ll take the area by our old stand.”

  
“I’ll take by the sylph’s place,” Feferi volunteers.

  
“So you can go work by the mages and seers,” you say to Damara, smiling brightly. She looks deeply unsure and anxious, but attempts a brave half-smile and walks away, shaking visibly.

  
“Was that okay?” you ask Feferi. “I don’t know.”

  
“She’ll be fine,” Feferi says. “She always is, she just doesn’t know it.”

  
She’s right.

  
You let yourself glow, just a touch, as you walk through the market. People notice you (news of the magic in the village travels fast) and approach you. You create small displays of spark-forms (magic harnessed into small moving pictures) and teleportation for people to see your magic. It is quite impressive, what you can do. You don’t realize it until you’re hiding it.

  
“If you want to see us, just come to our herbs stand and ask for the Woman of Space, Time, or Life, whichever is closest to your needs,” you whisper. “But only tell those who won’t tell the secret, or we won’t be able to do magic again.”

  
The people around you nod and leave. This continues until the end of the day, when you meet up with Feferi and Damara at the shop and head for home.

  
It’s late and you’re exhausted, but you have to register your updates on the Plan. It seems that your spelling has gone out the window as your tiredness increases, because you’re having trouble writing and spacing your words properly. But in the end, you get the whole thing written down and post it on the wall with the other updates. You’re in charge of the witches, so this will be your job until the Plan is done.

  
As you finish the report and hand it to Kankri, Nepeta stumbles in the door in the clothes you know her mother makes her wear, all tight corsets and thick skirts. She normally changes before coming here; you wonder what’s different this time.

  
“Can I change into something?” she gasps, and you of course tell her yes.

  
“Of course,” you say. “I’ve got something Kanaya sewed for you upstairs.”

  
“Lovely,” Nepeta says. She heaves a heavy breath and you are infinitely glad that you are a Magical, through and through, not stuck in the Underground.

  
She follows you upstairs and you help her undo the complex ties on her bodice and corset. The thing is next to impossible to get off without help; you don’t wear one.

  
You and Nepeta have been good friends for a long time now, though you thought she was teasing you at first because she was so lighthearted and silly all the time. You eventually realized that that was her genuine state of being and now the two of you are as close as you and Feferi.

  
When you finish taking out the lacing, she releases her breath all at once. You suppose you do wear a corset, but it’s loose and not designed to make you look like you’ve lost twenty pounds. Nepeta’s already skinny enough; why on Earth does she have to wear one?

  
“I hate that corset,” she says, tilting her head from side to side and rolling her shoulders back. “Damned thing. My mother won’t let me dress like anything less than my best until the wedding because people just keep coming over.”

  
“Oh, that’s too bad,” you say. “I guess you’ll be having a rough three months.”

  
“No kidding,” she sighs. “Thanks a ton.” She doesn’t mention what happens after the three months.

  
“Anytime,” you say. “Here’s the outfit.” You lay the pink clothing on the bed. It’s a pair of tight-fitting leggings that are a fairly bright pink and a magenta tunic over those that comes down to an inch or two above the knee with a tight neckline. There’re also a pair of arm socks and a hood that are a matching purple and an eyemask that’s the same color as the pants. The symbol Kanaya uses for heart is sewn on the front and its color matches the stitching on the costume. The shoes, tightly fitted boots, are dark green for some reason and when one walks in them, one can move in complete silence. You’re jealous of the clothes Kanaya makes for the rogues, but witch’s clothes are pretty cool too.

  
You walk back downstairs to leave Nepeta to change. Feferi and Damara and all of your other dear friends are sitting around the table in preparation for the late-night meal. You missed dinner because all the chaos in the market forced you to put off coming home for three hours while the seers and mages made the money to buy food. You vow that you’ll be more careful; you can’t afford to let this keep happening.

  
The rogues and thieves eat quickly. “What’s the rush?” you ask.

  
“We’ve got to get the updated Plan to the Underground,” Roxy, leader of the rogues, informs you. She’s sobered up and become a better leader recently and for this you are grateful, although she still doesn’t speak clearly.

  
“And we’re running low on supplies,” Meenah says. “I’ve got a plan of how to get some more.”

  
“You may not murder anyone,” Kankri say sternly, setting the bread on the table and returning to the kitchen for stew.

  
“Aw man,” Vriska taunts. “I was planning on assassinating the king.”

  
Kankri nearly drops the huge bowl of stew he’s carrying and you help him steady it. He simply does not understand sarcasm.

  
“She’s kidding,” you tell him, before he collapses from a heart attack.

  
“Yeah, Kankri,” Vriska says. “Don’t be such a stuck-up.”

  
“Vriska,” Kanaya warns, placing one hand on Vriska’s shoulder. Vriska rolls her eyes.

  
“Yes, Mother,” she says sarcastically, but you remember that her own mother is dead and feel sympathy for the orphaned girl.

  
“Jade.” Feferi addresses you and you jump.

  
“Yes?” you answer, smiling as if you weren’t spacing out.

  
“Report?”

  
“Oh, right. Sorry. Okay. We were nearly caught by a couple of lackeys today, but we made it out. They interrogated Rose,” You gesture towards your childhood friend. “But she played innocent. We’re going to talk to Karkat and ‘reassign’ them,” you report.

  
“Rogues, do you have that?” Kankri asks. He looks annoyed, and you suspect that he wishes he could go tell those men off on his own. But Karkat is more authoritative, so he will be the one to go.

  
“We do,” Roxy says, writing down the message, a bit of slur on the ‘we’.

  
“In that case, meeting adjourned,” Kankri says, and you devour your stew and bread. You make small talk with your dearest friends until it truly is night and the night workers must leave and you must sleep.

  
After all, what is waking without sleep?

  



	6. John: Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You need a plan to keep the new tax edict under wraps. What better distraction than the heir to the throne nearly dying?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This work will probably go on hold for a little bit while I work on my other fic (How Long It's Been), however I am two chapters ahead so I'll post one every Friday or so.

_Sister, sister, can she hear your shouts?_   
_Mother, mother, can she save you now?_

_Father, father, he can’t save their lives_

_Brother, brother, he must get the knives_   
  


==> John: Panic

  
You’re been freaking out a lot recently. Your name is John Egbert and you are the heir to your father’s throne. However, you think and have always thought that this is a horribly unfair system, because you’ve seen the peasants and that’s not an okay thing to do to people. They’re human beings, for heaven’s sake, not cattle.

  
You had a very strange introduction to the Underground, however. It stands out in your mind like nothing else.

  
_Two teenagers knock on the door._

_  
“John?”_

_  
You stop dancing to the music in your head and answer, “Yes?”_

_  
“Are you wearing pants?”_

_  
It must be Dave and Karkat, two squires with whom you’ve made an acquaintance. Last time they barged into your room, you were in the middle of changing for a fancy dinner and you weren’t wearing pants. This time, however, you are, so you open the door._

_  
“Hey, John, we’ve got something to talk to you about,” Dave says. You hope that neither are horribly ill or something. Or is this about your older sister, Jane?_

_  
Dave continues. “You don’t agree with this, do you? How they oppress the peasants and shit? Cuz—”_

_  
Karkat cuts him off. “Do you want to join the Underground and overthrow the monarchy?”_

_  
Your jaw gapes open and you stare for a long, long moment. You can’t believe that the thing you’ve been waiting for has been right in front of your eyes this whole time!_

_  
“Shit,” Karkat mutters under his breath. “We are so screwed.”_

_  
“No, no,” you say, shaking your head. “Of course I’ll join!”_

_  
“Cool,” Dave says. “Meet us by the castle gate tonight and we’ll go to the meeting. You’ve got magic, by the way. Rose said so.”_

  
“WHAT?”  
  
“According to Rose and Terezi, there’s sixteen people in the government who have magic in their blood and therefore see what’s wrong. We’ve got to find them and tell them.”

_  
“So…I’ve got magic? Does Jane? What about Jake? Wait—did Jade have magic? Is she really dead? Wow!”_

_  
“Jade’s not dead. She’s a witch and she glows when she uses her powers. See, there’s like two levels of magic: there’s the level at which you can’t hide it and you know you’ve got it, and there’s the level when you’re totally clueless and then one day we find you and you flip the fuck out,” Dave explains. “That’s you, Jane, Jake, and Dirk, so far.”_

_  
“Whoa.”_

_  
“Yeah.”_

_  
“So,” Karkat interrupts. “Are you in?”_

_  
“Of course!” you grin. Your smile stretches from ear to ear. You’ve found it. It’s time to take down the monarchy._

  
The main problem right now, about two weeks after the Meeting, is that your father has come up with a new policy to do with taxes. You know it’s only because he needs to gain favor from the peasants, keep them all pacified. But you can’t let that happen; your job, therefore, is to sabotage this plan. It’s a bit paradoxical, that you have to abolish anything that can help people for the next sixth months so you can get rid of this horrible government.

  
You feel uniquely qualified to talk about how screwed up the monarchy is here.

  
After all, you’re part of it.

  
You’re supposed to be there when your father announces the edict, and you and your sister, Jade, have worked out a plan. You’ll pretend to fall and hit your head and she’ll use magic to make you look like you’ve really injured yourself. Other Magicals in the crowd will whip up a panic at the near death of the heir. Except of course that it’s not your near death, but hey, it works.

  
“The Third Edict of the Egbert Family,” your father begins. “Taxes upon the peasantry—”

  
So he’s going to get right to the point. Well, you don’t let him get any further. Remembering what Jake coached you on, you let your knees loosen and buckle, causing your legs to collapse and the rest of you to follow. You throw out your arms to protect yourself when you truly fall offstage and onto the floor. You feel the false swellings on your head and your left knee and the fake blood trickle down your face. It feels enough like real blood that it’s unpleasant and freaky, but not enough to make you throw up.

  
You don’t handle blood well.

  
Your mother rushes over to you and starts chafing your wrists. She brushes the “bruise” on your forehead and you groan, exactly like Jake taught you. You use your own magic to gently push her towards panic, and it works. “He’s dying!”

  
Your father follows her example, which is very lucky for you because you really have no more than a dribble of magic that hibernates in your subconscious. “Bring him inside immediately! We will enact the edict when he is healed.”

  
It’s Jane’s job to talk your parents out of the edict. She is a maid after all, one who seems pure and innocent. She can use her charm and the fact that she is the only girl left after Jade “died” (you later discovered that Jane and Jake knew that she was still alive and did not tell you, making you very annoyed) to get your parents to do just about anything. If she can get them to repeal the edict, that will be a huge step to gaining peasantry support.

  
You feel sort of guilty about the fact that you’re prolonging the suffering of a good percent of society for another six months, but there really is no other way.

  
You keep your eyes closed as your mother carries you inside to your room. You try your best to be limp, but it’s hard when you really want to tell your sobbing mother that don’t worry, you’re fine, you swear, it was all a trick, please don’t worry. She worries so much about your safety, about your brother’s and sister’s wellbeing. You know she goes by Jade’s gravestone on the anniversary of the day she ran away and cries. Jade knows, too, and that is why she doesn’t go to work that day.

  
Maybe when this is all over, you can tell your parents that she’s still alive.

  
For now, you are letting one arm dangle off your bed and your head loll to the side. Your mouth is hanging half open and you don’t like it. You understand why people prefer consciousness.

  
Your mother, clearly nearing desperation, slaps your face. You jolt, because she can slap hard!

  
“John? John, are you alright?” she pleads.

  
You make some sort of jumbled sound. Jake taught you well. It seems to run in the family, good acting. Rose and Dave and Roxy and Dirk, your distant cousins, are also excellent actors.

  
“John Egbert!” your mother screams. “Wake up right this instant!”

  
You’re feeling really guilty by now, so you open your eyes and murmur, “Mother?”

  
“John? Oh my heavens, John, you’re all right!”

  
“’M fine, Mother,” you say. “I think I fainted.”

  
“I was worried about Jane fainting from her corset, but maybe I should be worrying about all those layers you wear! Do you need to take off your jacket?”

  
“No, Mother, it’s okay,” you say. “I think I’m just tired.”

  
“Then sleep, dear. I’ll talk with your father about when we can enact the edict. I’m sure you want to be there.”

  
“I really do, Mother.”

  
“Then I’ll make sure you can. Get some sleep, love, and we’ll talk about this tomorrow.”

  
Mission accomplished.

  
You feel like a real action hero from one of the books you read on the many days when you sit idle and wonder if maybe you’ll have something interesting to do. Lessons with Jane and Jake from old Mr. Urbano, who can’t tell you apart from Jake and Jake apart from Jane, don’t count as interesting. Jane and Jake know it all already; it’s a wonder Jane isn’t married yet. Hell, it’s a wonder Jake isn’t married yet; all the girls his age court him. You’re just sixteen, so your parents are probably going to give you two or three more years. You honestly have no clue who the girl will be, but you used to think about it a lot. That is, until you found out you’ll overthrow the monarchy and you won’t have to get married unless you want to.

  
Marriage seems to be playing a big role in this whole thing.

  
Probably because you have never met a single person who actually wants to be with the person they’re married. As far as you can tell, the only reason people have children at all is to keep the family name going.

  
It makes you sick.

  
You wait until your mother leaves, then your spring up and throw three stones, then one stone, then four stones, out the window. You get the same reply against the outside wall and it seems the plan has worked. No one noticed the injuries disappearing and all is well.

  
This is enough of a task without people being observant.

  
Rocks clatter against your shutters again, except this time it’s four, then one, then three. You open the shutter a tad and it’s your twin sister, Jade. She’s waving frantically. Just as you throw open the shutter the rest of the way, she throws another rock and you duck to avoid it. It lands on your bed and you pick it up.

  
 _Emergency. I’m not even kidding, John. Mission compromised; Duke Scratch suspects us_ , the stone reads in mess, magically done handwriting.

  
 _Shit_.

  
Duke Scratch, the highest-up of all the dukes, is one of your main enemies. The only two worse than him are Her Imperious Condescension (Her Majesty) and Lord English of Medici. If he suspects, you’re screwed.

  
You scribble a reply on a piece of paper, attach it to the rock, and throw it back down.

  
_I can’t do anything about that! Ask Makaras or Amporas._

  
_I know. Kankri’s doing that. I just have to warn you: be careful. Be even more careful now._

_  
I will, ~~Jade~~. _ You cross out Jade’s name in case someone sees this random piece of paper she’ll probably burn later and throw it down one more time.

  
_Good luck, brother._

_  
And good luck to you, sister._

  
You miss the days before Jade ran away and you thought she died. You grew up with a _twin_ ; losing that was the single most traumatic event of your entire life. One set of twins and one younger sibling isn’t fun.

  
You miss when you were little.

  
You miss when you were little, and you sung nursery rhymes about the disease. _Ring around the rosie, pocket full of posie, ashes, ashes, we all fall down!_  

  
You miss when you were little, and you sang songs about losing your head. _Here comes the candle to light you to bed, here comes the chopper to chop off your head!_

  
You used to sing songs and nursery rhymes, used to sit in lessons and learn a thing or two and not mind that you might be John or Jade or Jake or sometimes Jane to Mr. Urbano, used to have a twin sister to talk in code to, used to whisper secret through the walls to all your siblings.

  
Then you found out about what really happens in the villages.

  
You found out that for every hundred stalks of corn a farmer grows, forty-five go to your father and the other men of the palace. When a man dies, your father gets half of his possessions. A man or a woman, you remind yourself. It’s just that your whole family is made of men who work and women who don’t. Since meeting the Magicals, who have (of sixteen) three men, you’ve really come to realize how _dumb_ that whole thing about women being weak is.

  
More rocks hit your shutters. Dammit, you were about to fall asleep, too! You open the window and stick your head out, hoping you won’t get a real bruise to match the fake ones on your forehead and right arm.

  
It’s Roxy down there this time, hopefully with information. Since planning this shebang a week ago, you’ve had no communication from the others. It doesn’t help that the magical Underground is spread over three castles: one with the Zahhaks and the Makaras (two closely related families); one with the Amporas, Tavros, and Aradia; and yours, which has Mituna, Dirk, Karkat, Dave, Michael (whose real name is apparently Latula), Jake, Jane, and you. So you have about seven people you interact with on anything resembling a regular basis. You really hate it; isolation does not suit you. You want to be a _Magical_ , with proper powers and a place in the plans that’s not just defending the secret and sabotaging your parents until you overthrow them.

  
“Come up,” you call down to Roxy, who’s waiting for your response.

  
You suddenly wonder something. What will happen to your parents when the revolution really happens? Will they survive? Will you?

  
What will happen if they don’t?

  
You haven’t though about this.

  
You know the whole system is deeply screwed up, but they are your parents. They, your mother especially, care for you every day. They taught you how to walk, how to speak, how to eat, how to ride a horse, everything. You couldn’t watch them die. You could never let them die, no matter what they’ve done or what they will do. They’re not Duke Scratch or Lord English or Her Majesty.

  
Just because they’re in the wrong, doesn’t mean they deserve to die.


	7. Roxy: Climb

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're a rogue; you carry information around. But someone's on your trail, and someone is not happy about your plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another random update! Thank you so much for reading this! Please leave a comment; I love constructive criticism and getting comments really just makes me so happy my (very tolerant) friends hear about it for about a day.

_Hiding, hiding, the favorite game_

_Climbing, climbing, all in vain_

_Running, running, he’s on your tail_

_Screaming, screaming, your voice goes stale_   
  


==> Roxy: Climb

  
You are an excellent climber, even without a magical boost holding you to the wall. So it comes as no surprise to anyone that you climb up the outside of the house to your room. It’s dawn, and you are exhausted. You are actually nocturnal, a cycle you’ve trained yourself into, so you fall asleep when the sun rises and wake when it sets. Since you quit drinking, this has grown progressively harder, but there’s no way in hell you’re giving this up.

  
Who on Earth would give up being rogue just because it means you have to be nocturnal?

  
After a quick night breakfast, you collapse into bed and just pass out. You haven’t had to teach Nepeta anything, because she’s a natural at climbing and shit, but you’re exhausted nonetheless. You sleep through the long, quiet day under the rough sheets and blankets you’ve amassed.

  
It’s really only you and your new recruit who ever had any trouble with the weird sleep schedule; Rufioh and the thieves just accepted it and act exactly the same.

  
It’s the late meal when you emerge from the room you share with your sister in your dark blue rogue costume. The tunic is a kind of cerulean, the leggings are a very dark blue, and the hood is sort of navy. Your boots are black and easy to walk in. You take off the mask for the purposes of eating and walk downstairs.

  
You could do with a drink.

  
Problematically, no one in the house will give you one since you sobered up. So instead you eat too much stew and bread and try to remember what helped when you were first quitting. It’s all sort of a blur, honestly. You seem to remember that when you were really craving something, sometimes acidic stuff helped. Maybe it’s just the memories of the vomit. But you figure you might as well try.

  
Your sister hands you the last slice of orange (a rare delicacy) in the house and nods at you. She’s probably reading your mind. You take it gratefully and eat it slowly.

  
You don’t want a drink so much when you finish the orange, either because the acid really helped or because remembering how much you vomited and how much your head ached when you were drunk really deters you.

  
Most everyone goes to bed right after the meal. Normally they’d already be asleep, but there was some sort of chase in the market today.

  
“Come on, guys!” you call to your fellow rogues. “We’ve got jobs to do.”

  
You spend the next week or so relaying information on the J name people’s plan to stop the new tax edict. You’re careful, quiet, and secretive. But you know that it can’t last and the day it falls apart is the day before the J name’s plan begins.

  
You’re sneaking through the woods to contact the Amporas, because they have to keep Lord English off your trail until phase two. They’re not doing a good enough job, either, hence the letter Kankri wrote for you to deliver.

  
You take one more step and then you spot him: the man with the white hair. You’ve never met Duke Scratch in person, but you’ve heard of him and seen the drawings.

  
He’s not the sort of person you forget.

  
You know who it is the second you see him. You duck behind a tree as he turns around, a terrifying smile decorating his face. His features are utterly generic; it would be impossible to describe him at all. The only thing worth noting is that his hair is cloud-white, as is his skin; his eyes, nearly black, form a sharp and scary contrast. You squat down and cover your bright blond hair with your hood. But he’s not moving. To get the message to the Ampora castle, you’ll have to pass him.

  
You think through your options. You could wait for a carriage, but it’s late and that wouldn’t work. You could wait out the night here, then walk down the road like nothing’s wrong. Unfortunately, you’re wearing your rogue clothes and though they are excellent for nighttime working, they are not exactly inconspicuous in the daytime. You could go back to the village you passed about a mile back and steal some clothes, but that would be a huge waste and that village is he poorest you’ve ever seen.

  
That leaves the option of trying to sneak around him.

  
 _Dammit_.

  
You slowly shift your weight so you are standing with your back braced against the tree. There is no way around this—wait.

  
You look up. The tree branches should hold your small weight. They’re close enough. You once did something like this with Nepeta and Rufioh on the way to the Egbert castle.

  
You throw your arms around a low-hanging branch and pull yourself up. You climb higher, careful of anything that could rustle and alert the duke to your presence.

  
Once you’re high enough, you jump to the next tree and wrap your arms around the trunk, barely balancing on the narrow branches. This is the single dumbest thing you’ve ever done. Except maybe quitting drinking. Or starting drinking.

  
You balance your feet on the thin branches at the top of the tree directly above Duke Scratch and prepare to leap to the next tree. If you miss this one, you’ll fall right in front of the duke and there goes the operation.

  
You inhale deeply and launch yourself to the next tree. There’s a long moment of hanging in the air like a bird before you throw your arms around the next tree trunk and land, barely, with your feet on a slim branch that’s going to crack under your weight any second.

  
You keep moving.

  
In retrospect, you should’ve taken more notice of the duke looking up.

  
You deliver the note by chucking it, tied to a rock, through Eridan’s window, and deftly catch the response. It’s nearing daylight, and you really have no choice but to walk like you belong in your odd clothes. You take off the hood and use it as a pretend bundle of something and hide the eye mask in it. You look weird because you have no bodice or normal skirt, but hopefully no one will take notice.

  
Unfortunately, hope does not seem to get you far these days.

  
You set your shoulders back and head for home. Roxy Lalonde, out. It’s a four-mile walk, so you won’t be back for a long time. They aren’t expecting you back for another whole night. You might find a nice place in the woods to curl up for the day and sleep.

  
You join the crowds of people traveling to a different village in hopes of finding a place to sell for a bit more. You’ve seen the poverty here first hand, and that is why you left behind your family to be a rogue. You keep your head down and you look just like one of them, except that you are wearing weird clothes and trying not to fall asleep on the road.

  
The duke is still there.

  
You can’t risk sleeping in the woods now, but you’re just so _tired_. You think on it for a long time, then decide that if you slip into the woods on the other side of the road, you won’t be noticed. This is a heavy-traffic road and you’re pretty inconspicuous (or so you’d like to think). You wait until a carriage passes in front of you, then you dive into the woods and crawl through the underbrush until you find a nice enough spot to sleep. Daylight comforts you as you drift off to sleep in the warm June air.

  
You wake up when something near you moves. You’ve been a light sleeper since you sobered up. You spring to your feet with your hands held up defensively, ready to fight any threat. You don’t see anything. What woke you up?  
  
Something—someone—pulls your elbows back and pins them together, rendering your arms useless. But you can still kick like a bitch and you do, aiming for the shins in case it’s a girl.

  
The person grunts and lets you go and—oh _fuck_ , it’s Duke Scratch. You whip out your dagger and slice open the skin on the back of his hand, a carefully calculated move so he has to stop the bleeding before he can chase you.

  
 _Shit_.

  
You push off the hard gravel road and start running as fast as you possibly can. You’ve got a mile to go; you can make it.

  
You run your fastest mile ever, making it home in about seven minutes. You vault up the side of the house and clamber in your window, starting to properly panic. You change into some normal clothes and style your hair differently in case he’s tracked you here. You run down the stairs and tell your friends, “Guys! Scratch nearly got me! We need to get everyone but a couple kids and a fake mom and dad down here and everyone else in the top room or something!” The top room, a. k. a. Meulin’s room, is connected to the rest of the house by an old rope ladder and a battered wooden hatch in the ceiling.

  
“Calm down,” Rose says, and you suppose you must be wild-eyed and probably scaring your friends. “Did you do the back-of-the-hand cut? That works very well.”

  
“Of course,” you answer. You’re not stupid, even when you panic.

  
“Then he’s probably at a doctor,” Rose reasons.

  
She’s right, and you now realize that the duke is most definitely at a doctor’s. How could he have followed you here? You’re calming down now. You realize it’s noon and you’d be hard to follow on the roadway anyways.

  
It must be the lack of sleep.

  
“Get some sleep, Roxy,” Rose says, placing a gentle hand on your shoulder. You know that as the older sister, you should be the one worrying about her, but most often, she is the concerned one. She even drinks sometimes, though Jade and Kankri and Karkat when he’s over usually hide all the alcohol somewhere. You don’t even know where.

  
“A letter came for you,” Kankri adds, sifting through the pile of mail on the table. The only time when he’s not talking is when he’s focused on something else. He tosses your letter aside and continues sorting. He’ll be up all night responding to those. Wait a second—

  
“Why are you guys all still home?”

  
“The seer stand is closed today because we need to catch up on inventory,” Rose tells you. “We’re behind schedule on the sewing.”

  
You nod. “I’m going to bed,” you say. The three seers nod and you fall into bed again.

  
At least you know you won’t wake up with a hangover.

  
You wake up at around nine PM, just in time to get dressed for the late-night meal. You have a truly dangerous mission today: you must travel to and get inside the Egbert castle in order to give the Underground there the plans of the local waterworks, which must be controlled. Running water is essential to the villages because the disease carried in the water can strike if it doesn’t flow. (Your sister knows all the technical terms; you just refer it as the disease.) So it is essential for the Underground to gain control of the water.

  
After a quick meal, you’re off to see John, and once again wishing you could have a drink. You really could do with a beer right now.

  
You run into Jade on the way back, but she’s on the road and you’re in the bushes. You make sure no one’s around, rush into the road, and lay stones in a pattern of three, one, four. Jade picks them up and nods in your direction. You nod back, even though she can’t see you, and continue on to the palace.

  
Once you arrive, you pick up eight pebbles and throw them at John’s window. Three, one, four. He opens the shutters and says, “Come in.”

  
Easier said than done.

  
You find your usual place and scale the stone wall carefully, using your magic to pin yourself to the wall so you can’t fall. You reach the top of the battlements and walk along them to John’s tower. Once you arrive there, it’s just a matter of reach. You extend your arms to latch onto his windowsill and hoist yourself up with a bit of magic to help.

  
John opens his shutters and you land on two feet in his room. “Where’s the others?” you ask. You still slur your speech, even without the alcohol, and you wonder if maybe it’s just how you are. You might be stuck with a bad speaking voice.

  
“Uh…I think in their rooms?” John answers. He is quite cute for the hugely awkward teenager he is.

  
“We need all of ‘em,” you say. “I can only say this once.”

  
He nods and leaves the room quietly, though not as quietly as you in your boots. You double-check your pack for the plans and yep, they’re all still there. You just need to hand these to your friends and explain this shit. It’s complicated as fuck, you have to say, and you must be getting tired again, because you’re swearing more than usual. But it’s also essential, so you’re going to stay awake long enough to read it out.

  
The other seven soon join John in the small room, including your twin brother Dirk and little brother Dave. You don’t see your brothers often anymore, though you see your sister just about every day. You resist the urge to hug the both of them and instead spread the maps and charts on the floor. “Entrance here, waterwheel and gears here,” you begin, pointing to the places on the diagram that Vriska drew from her spying missions and Kankri labeled. (Whose bright idea was that?) “And guards usually come ‘round once every half-hour. So you’ll have to stay ahead of them. Most hallways will hold three people at once, max, so that’s how many you can have with you. Uh...I think that’s everything Kankri told me to tell you. ‘Cept that if anyone gets caught, don’t expose the others. But I guess that sorta goes without saying.”

  
The eight people in the room with you nod solemnly. “So who’s gonna go?” you ask. You need to report this back to HQ.

  
Karkat turns to face the others in a very leader-like way. “Me, obviously. And…you, Dave, yes you, asshole. And John, you might as fucking well show up.”

  
Latula raises her hand, and you remind yourself that she is Michael here. “Hey, I can come too.”

  
“But we need a knight here to defend the outside, dumbass,” Karkat says. “To keep people out. That’s your fucking job, obviously.”

  
“What about the rest of us?” Jane asks, and you want to hug her because you know she hates her role in the plan.

  
“Do what you always do,” you shrug. Then you do hug your dear friend and gather up the papers. “Wait--d’you guys need these?”

  
“No shit,” Karkat says dryly, and you give him back the stack of papers.

  
“We’re screwed if someone finds these, so try to keep ‘em out of sight,” you tell him. You scribble down a couple notes on another sheet of paper and stick it in your pack.

  
“Till next time, _mes amigos_ ,” you say, climbing out the window and back to the battlements.

  
You climb down the usual way and head for home. You’re feeling alert and ready for the two-mile trip. You just need to get home before about sun-up and you’ll be fine.

  
You’re halfway there when you see him a second time. Duke Scratch, standing by the roadway, smiling as if he’s not there to catch anyone who plots against the monarchy. You still couldn’t describe him, but you can recognize him from a mile away. His white hair and skin make him shine like the moon in the dark forest and you are suddenly very grateful for your dark-colored clothing and hood. You shift your attention to pulling the hood low over your face and making sure your pale skin is covered.

  
When you turn to face him again, he’s looking your way.

  
 _Shit_.

  
You freeze, again, behind a tree. This time, the trees aren’t tall enough for you to climb over his head. It’s utterly empty, so you can’t pass unnoticed on the road. And it’s also completely silent, so passing through the woods will be next to impossible without making some small noise. However, that seems to be your only option.

  
You hit the ground and start crawling through the underbrush. You’re less likely to be spotted this way. This is not an okay thing to be happening!

  
You are right next to him, close enough to hear him breathing, when he suddenly turns and you freeze in place. You’re wearing all dark colors and the brush is hiding you--surely you’re safe?

  
You’ve got to stop thinking shit like that.

  
He is walking in your direction and you’ve got no choice. You position your feet in a runner’s lunge and push yourself forward, running through the trees and not caring who follows. Duke Scratch does not look surprised. You notice bandages on the back of his right hand and realize you’re one option down.

  
You slip the dagger out of the arm sock on your left arm (the entire reason you have those things) and hold it so the second he’s close enough you’ll be able to inflict some major damage. You don’t know where you’ll get him this time, because honestly you’re afraid to kill him, and you decide that if he catches up, you’ll slice open his leg so he can’t walk. Maybe break it, too, and leave him lying in the road until daylight.

  
You realize you can’t lead him to your home and you can’t go anywhere else. So you turn sharply into the deep woods, where you have the advantage over a man raised in a palace. If you can get far enough ahead, you can scale a tree and let him run past so you can get home before the sun rises. He is easy to see in the dark night, and you would be too if not for the hood and the fact that he’s behind you. Your hours of night work that have made you pale and your blonde hair are the reason you have a hood.

  
You reach a good tree and leap up to the first branch, wrapping your arms around it and bracing your feet against the trunk to climb. You reach the second branch and you don’t stop until you’ve reached the top of the treeline. The duke, who you can easily pick out from the dark trees below, stops at your tree and looks straight up. He claps, very, very slowly. You can barely make out his mouth, but you think he’s saying, _“Well played, Lalonde. Well played.”_

  
How the _fuck_ does he know your name?

  
He leaves and you drop out of the tree and, shaking badly, make for home.

  
You’ve got a hell of a story to tell your friends.

 


	8. Dave: Break In

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You've got a job to do, and you're going to do it. No matter who or what gets in the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There are going to be a few historical liberties taken starting in this chapter or so. I did base the general historical area off the Italian Renaissance, though.

_Glasses in front of a pale little face_

_No problems here; you hold all the aces_

_But peek a little closer under bright white skin_

_And see all the secrets buried within_

 

==> Dave: Break In

  
Easier said than done. Your name is Dave Strider and you’re currently hiding just outside the waterwheel that runs pretty much the whole kingdom with Karkat and John, a knight friend and your friend since you were a kid. Michael is guarding the outside (he’s a knight too) and you think one of the rogues is on hand if anything goes really horribly wrong.

  
That’s seeming more and more likely.

  
This place is full of guards, constantly circulating the entire building. Two knights and the heir to the gogdamn throne? Completely inconspicuous. As unnoticeable as the fucking castle flying around. As secretive as the home that is HQ glowing when Jade expands the rooms.

  
Okay, you might’ve made some of that up.

  
That’s not really the point here. You basically need to break in, shut off the water supply, and seize control of the whole damn place, not necessarily in that order. Then you get your supporters to run the water so they can be in place when phase two comes in.     This shouldn’t be hard; most of the workers are already the type of people to be supporters. You are 99% sure that some of them already are.

  
“Split,” Karkat hisses, and you turn left at the intersection of two narrow hallways. Karkat goes straight, and John turns right. John needs to create a diversion for the guards, while Karkat gathers the workers to get them to rebel. Your job is to get to the water wheel and shut it off.

  
It’s not going to be easy.

  
You reach the next intersection and confidently turn right. You know exactly where you’re going and what you’re doing; why bother to be afraid?

  
At the next intersection, a guard is passing. You didn’t expect that, and you consider briefly that someone (probably Vriska) made a mistake on the map. Or maybe the guards changed their schedule and you’re all completely fucked. But everything else has been right, so you still don’t waste any effort on fear. The guard in question looks angry, even feral, and he’s holding his sword like Dirk, your older brother, used to right before he’d randomly duel you. So, on the offensive. _Well, that’s no good_ , you think. You’ve got a sword, too, of course, but you don’t feel like tangling with this nut job of a guard. You’ve got a job to do and dammit, you will do it.

  
So, against all your developed aggressive instincts (thanks a ton, Bro), you press your back to the wall and hide. It’s frustrating as fuck, but you know you have to. Keep a cool head, Strider.

  
The fucking crazy guy passes and you quietly tail him down the hall. Nearly all the guards guard the main water wheel, which looks like the ones in mills. Except the gears in this one power these pump things and bring water to other, small water wheels in villages that in turn pump water into three troughs: drinking, washing, and toilet. You are intimately familiar with this system because it was your main lesson in engineering from your tutor, Mrs. Florentine, before you became a knight.

  
There are at least ten guards around the water wheel and about twenty workers making repairs, pushing the colossal wheel so it spins faster, gathering supplies the wheel needs.

  
They look miserable.

  
It’s dark, because it’s around midnight, so you can pass unnoticed into the group of workers doing repairs. Your sword is hidden under your clothes such that you can pull it out and fight at any second.

  
Except for the creaking, the entire building is silent. You close your eyes for good measure, because your light-sensitive eyes can pick out even the tiniest of details in the dark with your dark glasses on. You’ve taken to calling them sunglasses recently; you might stick with that.

  
Anyways, you can tell when the moon hits one AM and the shift changes. The guards and workers all leave, except for one man. He’s not looking at you, either. Poor guy’s gonna loose his job. You ram him in the back of the head with the handle of your sword and he collapses on the ground. There’s a weak spot you know to aim for on the back of the head, and it looks like you got it just right.

  
For a second, you worry you might not have enough time, but it’s still just a bit past one. _Keep a cool head, Strider_ , you think. Maybe you should just say cool. You’re completely cool. Yeah, you like that. Fuck language constraints.

  
You search the room for something large and stick-shaped. If you can jam something about half the size of a log into the wheel the right way, the whole thing will shut down. You just need something…

  
Like a floor plank. You notice a loose one and pry it up, slowly but surely. There’s a huge commotion, and you surmise John’s pulled off his distraction. Karkat should be telling the workers about the rebellion about now. You sincerely hope that no one’s fucked it up too bad yet.

  
The plank finally comes up after your whack at the thin nails with your sword for a bit. It’s thick, not too rotten but not too heavy, and long enough that it can get caught in the river below and properly fuck this up. Just right.

  
You hoist the plank over your shoulder and maneuver it into place. _Three…two…one…_ You let go of the wooden board and it slides through the water wheel’s spokes and into the river below.

  
The water wheel stop completely with a series of horrible grinding noises. Mission accomplished.

  
You weren’t expecting the guards to hear the awful sounds.

  
 _Fucking shit_.

  
You can fight off guards; you are a knight. You draw your sword and prepare for the assault. Your brother trained you for this, too, when he gathered your siblings and squire friends to attack you all at once. You can fight off up to ten people at once; thank you, Bro.

  
Fifteen or so guards rush into the room and you hope you can beat them. As it turns out, Karkat runs in at the same time and he’s almost as good as you are at this. He and you stand back-to-back, aiming only to knock out. You wish you had your dagger on you, but this sword will do. Not to mention that Karkat has an iron poker for knocking people out. You wonder briefly where the fuck he got it, there’s no fireplaces around here. It crosses your mind that he must’ve thought ahead enough to bring it with him and his sword. You’d never say it aloud, but you admire that about your friend.

  
The first fifteen fall, but more take their places. If you’re not careful, you’ll have to start drawing blood soon. Already the guards are being more offensive, realizing that two versus twenty is no fair fight.

  
You wonder briefly if you could get away with absconding quickly. These guards haven’t seen your faces; they cannot incriminate you. You are wearing the magical masks that conform to your face, so that’s not an issue. You only hope the dark glasses don’t give you away. You’ve got a sudden idea.

  
“KNIGHT OF MIND!” you scream. He’s got to be able to hear that.

  
And indeed he must, because Michael Summers bursts into the room not five minutes later, his own sword drawn, and joins the two of you in the fight. He’s better than either of you with the sword, because he is older, but Karkat’s still beating everyone with the iron poker. Your weapon is a kind of sword that is impossible to hide under your clothes; this other one is awkward in your grip.

  
Michael’s breathing hard, even though he’s barely sweating as far as you can tell and he’s been at this a lot shorter than you and Karkat. He does that a lot, breathes too hard when no one else is even sweating. You seem to remember hearing the word asthma somewhere before deciding to focus on the issue at hand.

  
A guard comes right at you, his sword raised the way you were taught. You parry the blow and strike for his sword arm. He blocks your strike, but he does not notice your fist swinging to meet his jaw. He drops the sword and it clatters to the ground. You hit him with the handle of you sword and he collapses on the ground.

  
You pick up the second sword and tuck it into your scabbard as you raise your right arm, ready to fight. But no one else is coming. John’s diversion has come and gone; surely he is up at the palace by now. The only thing left is for the last of the guards to be taken care of so you can get some fucking _sleep_.

  
The door opens one more time and you brace yourself for another round of guards. But no; this time it is a man. A short man, granted. You think he’d probably Karkat’s height, except that this man is so pale you can almost see the veins in his arms. His hair is the color of his skin and it’s slicked close to his head. His eyes are dark, as dark as the night sky outside, and it’s terrifying against his pale skin. His suit is white, linen white, except for the bright green shirt (a color brighter than you’ve ever seen before) underneath and a slightly darker green bowtie, closer to emerald. There is exactly one person it can be: Duke Scratch.

  
Shit.

  
Michael turns and takes a step so he’s standing next to you. The three of you form a strong line of defense, of offense too. The duke nods, almost approvingly. You feel and elbow dig into your side and you remember what Rufioh said when he delivered the masks: they’ll only last so long. When you feel melting on your face, that means the masks are coming off.

  
You feel the melting, and it’s like cold, liquid candle wax dribbling down your cheeks. You don’t have much time left. “Abscond,” you hiss under your breath. Michael and Karkat nod. You brace your feet to run when Duke Scratch speaks.

  
“Strider. Vantas. And Pyrope. How nice to meet you,” he says.

  
“And you, Scratch,” Karkat shoots back, sarcasm dripping like rain from his voice.

  
“I suppose you must go,” Scratch says politely. “Well done.”

  
Puzzled, you decide that the best choice is to dramatically turn on your heel, letting your cape whip behind you, and leave the room with Karkat and Michael.

  
The three of you get out of the room and see the cart that’s waiting for you. Rufioh’s driving it, of course, and he motions for you to get on, _fast_ , before someone sees. He brings you back to the palace and you go back to your room, leaving only room for wonder and (okay, you’ll confess to it this time) worry.

  
How did he know your names?  
  
You seem to remember something a few days ago about Roxy being known, which is a huge fucking problem, because if the rogues can’t sneak somewhere, who can? The whole thing has you more unnerved than should be allowed for someone with your level of coolness (that’s a word now, too, you decide).

  
Hell, you might as well just keep on going.

  
The plan is to use the next week to recruit workers to your side, but that’s not your job specifically. Your job basically to not get blown up.

  
Once again, easier said than done.

  
You’re practicing with cannons today and you are doing your best not to spill gunpowder, because literally blowing up would be (once again) a huge fucking problem. Plus, when you go home, you have to be careful not to leave any traces of anything knightly on your clothes. Including gunpowder.

  
Of course John ends up singed by the fires. He’s just strolling by, too, because as the heir his job is to go to lessons with his crazy tutor Mr. Urbano and learn to rule, not to fight.

  
He’s also the clumsiest person you have ever met, save maybe your older sister Roxy when she’s drunk.

 

So it’s no surprise that he gets grazed by a cannonball. At least it’s not one of yours. He yelps and runs across the rest of the field as fast as the wind, the elbow of his shirt smoking.

  
Everything’s going as normal until a short man with pale skin and light hair and dark, dark eyes shows up. You instantly recognize him as Scratch and push your sunglasses up your nose. Your face is stoic, but your mind is screaming. You will not be responsible for the failure of the plan.

  
Scratch walks straight through the practice field, miraculously not getting hit by a single cannonball. You wonder briefly at this before shrugging it off because anyone can see that this guy’s bizarre. Something’s up and you’re going to leave it to the heirs or someone to figure out what because dammit, you’re _busy_.

  
The duke approaches you and he’s right next to your face. He’s examining you, as if he knows who you are. For all you know, he does.

  
That would spell the end of the plan.

  
The duke finally leaves, evidently deciding that he has not seen you before. He does the same to a few other knights, including Michael and Karkat. But you’ve got a bad feeling about this, and it is confirmed the second he pauses by your cannon. The piece of paper the color of his skin (and yours too) reads, “I will not be made a fool of, Dave Strider.”


	9. Rose: Work

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are in danger, everyone you love is in danger, and this has been made painfully clear to you by a man you won't admit you fear. He knows too much.
> 
> Solution? Murder.

_See too little, see too much_

_Just keep playing Double Dutch_

_Wait till the rope stops going round_

_Wait till you crash into the ground_   
  


==> Rose: Work

  
You hardly cease work these days. People come for magic nearly every day and you can barely keep up. Your costs are both money and devotion to the cause. The plan is to create an army of everyone who wants to rebel and rise up. Phase one is gathering the army. Phase two is drawing up the plans and retrieving more supplies. Phase three is controlling the resources. Phase four is the out-and-out rebellion, a war on the armies of the nobility. You are currently a third of the way into phase one, and so far, no one has died. But Duke Scratch is on your trail and that alone is more concerning than any of the other worries you can see when you close your eyes to sleep.

  
You haven’t been sleeping much lately.

  
Kanaya tries to reassure you, but it never works. Your Light means that you catch glimpses of the future, or of other places, or of completely other times. You have only told Kanaya of the time you see in which women walk around in trousers and tight shirts and the men have long hair and nobody minds, when metal birds and bus take people to distant lands not to trade, but to vacation. You long for that time more than anything else, except maybe your own marriage. Both goal are equally impossible, as you know the land of metal and comfortable clothes is farther in the future than you will live and no priest would ever marry two women. You don’t even know how the ceremony would go, and you don’t care. You’re on the verge of just buying two rings and saying to hell with it and getting married in the woods in a lovely clearing like Meulin and Kurloz.

  
Maybe today will be the day.

  
You make a good amount of money, because you can see the future if you force it. Your true strength is in watching the dice lands when it is tossed into the field at random, which also wins you betting games. Although you dislike how dishonest it is to cheat in those games, you do need money, and there’s only so much you can do. You will do what you have to.

  
The duke has been wandering the market much more often recently. Sometimes, you think that he is staring right at you. You never wear your seer’s clothes out anymore, despite the fact that they are infinitely more comfortable because you don’t have to wear a corset or a bodice. Kanaya came up with something called a bra that is not great, but it’s much better than a _corset_.

  
The duke is walking by and you stiffen, because he may come here and ask for magic and you don’t want to have to go through that a second time. It was unpleasant enough the first time, when Jade and Aranea and Feferi and Damara and your girlfriend’s lives on your shoulders.

  
And dammit, he stops by your stand. “Hello, sir,” you say politely. You’re actually a pretty decent actress, or so you’ve been told, and if you’ve got the skills you’re going to use them.

  
“I would like to speak to the one who sees the light.”

  
 _Shit_.

  
“I’m sorry, what?” you ask with polite confusion.

  
“The one who sees the light,” he persists. He’s not like the men who chased the witches and the sylphs through the market, then.

  
“I don’t know who you mean,” you say, but carefully. Not slowly enough that it shows in your voice, but enough that you sound confused. “We sell hand-fitted clothing here, sir, if that’s what you would like?” You grab a random color of fabric off the pile and hold it out. It’s a shade of yellow-orange that you love. “We call this color ‘Light’.”

  
“I see,” he says, examining the fabric. There’s actually nothing special about it, no magic at all. You confine magic to back rooms and secret meetings.

  
He hands the fabric back to you and you stack it as if it is your greatest care in the world. “This is not what I am looking for. I would like to see the woman who can see the light as none other.”

  
“None of us see especially well, sir. Do you need eyeglasses? They are available at the doctor-barber’s. Pardon me for asking, but are you new in this area?”

  
“I am not. I am your duke.”

  
“Duke Scratch! It is such an honor to meet you, sir.”

  
“Thank you, miss. I am here to investigate the kingdom and I would like to see those who see.” He’s sounding angrier and you’re starting to sweat. If he discovers who and what you really are…you don’t normally snap under pressure, but this is a different sort of pressure. Questions, you can handle with snark and sass that makes most back off. These lies are the sort that make your cover crack.

  
“I’m very sorry, Duke Scratch, but there is no one here who might fit that description.”

  
“Are you very sure?”

  
“I’m sorry, sir, but I am.”

  
“I can have you taken in for questioning and tortured,” he hisses so only you can hear. _So what?_ “I can torture the ones you love.” Your mind jumps immediately to Kanaya and you think that you must get yourself out of this. You don’t want to admit it, but you need backup. Your usual cynicism and sarcasm will not suit your right now. You need someone who won’t shut up.

  
“Kankri!” you call.

  
“I am rather busy, Rose. I am in the middle of fitting a suit. If you would kindly wait until I have finished this complex task, rather than distracting me in the middle—”

  
“The duke is here!”

  
He shuts up and walks to the front and holds out his right hand to shake. He’s on high alert, then, because he’s a lefty. “It’s so nice to meet you, sir. It’s a great pleasure. This is my coworker Rose. Our other coworker, Terezi, is sorting fabric in the back.”

  
Lowering your voice, you add, “She’s blind, you see, so we take care of her.”

  
“I see. Is she your legal ward?”

  
“No, sir. Her parents are dead and she has no husband,” you answer. It’s only half a lie; Terezi’s father is dead. You notice that Kankri’s glaring at you, but not speaking, and you gather that he’s annoyed that you’re pretending to diminish Terezi for her blindness. You’re only doing it because Terezi is worse than you when it comes to diplomacy. You do what you must.

  
“I am looking for those who can see,” Duke Scratch says, cryptic-sounding as ever.

  
“We can see very well, sir. None of us need eyeglasses. Unless you’re referring to Miss Pyrope, because she in fact cannot see. This would be grossly insensitive, but since you are a duke I presume you have more dignity than that! However, I cannot assume and I must wonder if you are insulting my coworker and orphaned friend. If so, you should know that she currently has no suitors because of her disability and she spends much time very upset over the matter.” Does he ever shut up? He’s now completely making stuff up, and he must hate it, but at least he’s got a sense of what must be done for the sake of the revolution. Also, would it kill him to not insult the man who could expose your whole plan in five minutes?

  
Scratch changes the subject. “I have heard of you, miss,” he says, giving you a look that would turn a woman less used to this turn to ash. “Holding hands in the village with another woman.”

  
People talk, and they talk about you and Kanaya. You haven’t been allowed to be seen with her while you’re both in the village in a month or so. “That’s horrible, sir! I’d never do such a thing!” Yes you would.

  
“Interesting.”

  
“With all due respect, that sounds like gossip the womenfolk exchange in the village,” Kankri says

  
“Hm."

  
“Sir, if you’re not going to purchase an item, I must ask you to leave,” you say.

  
“I am not finished with you, Rose Lalonde,” he warns.

  
You say the only thing you can think of. “Good day, _sir_.”

  
“Good day, sir and miss.”

  
What is he planning?

  
You don’t share a room with Kanaya (because you both have sisters who live here), so you must tell her before Kankri makes everyone put out the candles. You wait until everyone’s gone upstairs before facing her squarely and wearing your most sympathetic face.  

  
“Scratch knows,” you say. “He can’t prove it, but he knows about us.”

  
She sighs heavily, and you remember that she carries the weight of the world on her shoulders far too often. “If he knows, it’s a reason to arrest. You know the law as well as I do. We may have to kill him,” she says frankly.

  
You nod. “I don’t know how we can possibly pull off something so ambitious, but he knows. English and Condesce don’t know, but they have power. That we can defeat. It’s knowledge.”

  
“ ‘The course of true love never did run smooth’,” Kanaya quotes.

  
“Who said that?”

  
“Shakespeare, in _A Midsummer Night’s Dream_.”

  
“Oh, so you have been going to see the plays!”

  
She blushes and shrugs. “What can I say? The lure of the theater is impossible to resist.”

  
You laugh. But it’s late and you’re exhausted. You need a drink. There’s a stash stored in the back of Kankri’s obsessively organized vegetable cabinet.

  
“Goodnight, Kanaya,” you say, kissing her softly.

  
“Goodnight, Rose.”

  
She walks upstairs and leaves you alone. You’ve seen what alcohol did to your sister, but you’re also so…you don’t know what. You need a drink.

  
You pull out a beer and down the entire thing in three gulps. The liquid burns your throat and mouth but you don’t care, it numbs your mind and that’s all that matters. You new job is to tell your practically pacifist friends that it is now your mission to hunt down and kill a man, Duke Scratch no less. You grab and consume a second bottle. As the alcohol finds its way into your blood, you start laughing at the idea. It all seems so hilariously out-of-proportion and bizarre. Even though some part of you is insisting that the beer is doing horrible things to your body, you love this feeling and you can’t get enough. You reach for a third bottle.

  
You laugh louder, loud enough to wake Kanaya. You see a glow on the stairs and you try to hide the bottles, but you’re clumsy and disoriented and you start laughing again, this time at the fact that you can’t seem to walk without tripping over your own two feet.

  
“Rose? Is that you?”

  
“Kanaya?” you slur.

  
“Rose!” she exclaims. She wrenches the third (wait—maybe it’s the fourth?) bottle out of your grasp and you grab at it, but she empties the liquid down the drain and rinses the bottle twice. “Are you drunk? How many?”

  
“Three, I think.”

  
“Rose Lalonde, how could you?”

  
“S’just some beer, Kanaya. Doesn’t matter.”

  
“Yes it does. I’m moving this tomorrow. Come on, upstairs.”

  
“But…”

  
“But nothing. You need sleep if you’re drunk and I can’t let you stay down here. Come on, dear.”

  
You stumble up the steps with her supporting you and you think she leads you to your room, but you can’t count the stairs anymore. You stumble to one of the beds, you think it’s yours, and collapse into a fit of giggles again. Kanaya sighs, but she doesn’t leave. She is still standing in the doorway with a brightly burning candle when you fall asleep.

  
“We have to take out Scratch.”

  
“WHAT?” Kankri shouts in response to your dramatic statement at breakfast.

  
“He knows about Roxy, Dave, and Kanaya and I.” You’re hung over as all hell, but this thought is clear in your mind. Scratch cannot continue to be involved in the plans at all, as far as you are concerned. He knows too much.

  
“We decided that we would not kill until the final battle,” Kankri states.

  
“Yeah. If we kill him, we’re no better than them,” Feferi says. “I mean, we’re all people! Just because my mother is the Condesce, would you kill me?”

  
“It’s not that,” Kanaya says. “It’s that he is going to cause the plan to fail unless we assassinate him.”

  
There is a long pause before someone else speaks up. It’s Damara. “We don’t have to…kill him. We could just…send him away…or something? Sorry.”

  
“No, it’s okay,” Jade says. “I think that’s a good idea. What do you guys say?”

  
You have no problem doing unsavory things if you must for your cause. But…it does seem that everyone else is extremely averse to said activity. Maybe there is a way to get him without…killing. You admit to yourself it’s murder and the thought makes you hesitate. Unsavory, yes; murder, no. That is the most basic way you can say this to yourself and it’s true. Murder is not something you can stand to abide by after…after a certain event in your life.

  
Kanaya takes your hand and you grip tightly. Even if the plan is not to…kill anyone, you must find a way to block his memories and relocate him. Memories…you and Terezi could do that.

  
“I have an idea,” you begin. “Terezi and I could block his memories, then we could have the rogues or the thieves or some other group take him to one of the trading ships and tell them to drop him off at the farthest destination, saying it’s important. They will if we pay them, and a magical memory block should cause his brain to invent memories to reconcile his personality with what he’ll remember without anyone real getting in the way or any proper reason to return.”

  
Terezi tilts her head slightly to the side, considering. “Sounds feasible,” she says. Her mouth curls into a devious smile. “Can I be the one to kidnap him?”

  
“You’re blind,” Sollux says matter-of-factly.

  
“I can see perfectly well with my nose. You’re wearing a red shirt today, probably Aradia’s. She lent you a shirt last time she was here because we can’t afford new clothes and your others must be pretty ripped up because you’d never wear a girl’s shirt to breakfast on a normal day, or choose red over blue or vice versa. I think I’ve got this.”

  
Sollux blushes (his childhood friend did indeed lend him a shirt) and glares at her.

  
“We’ll need to plan this carefully,” Kankri says. He is too cautious. “And we need to make choices. Thieves are the best to infiltrate the castle and kidnap the duke, but…Terezi may be of assistance. Additionally, the rogues will be needed to render him unconscious and transport him to the port. That is a two-week journey round-trip, therefore we must complete the plot this month, or it may interfere with the Underground.”

  
“How do you mean?” Aranea asks. She must be ill; she’s barely spoken since last night.

  
“Nepeta is to be married in a month and a half, remember?” Meulin answers. Of course she remembers this; it is her sister, after all.

  
Aranea nods, closing her eyes for a brief second. She’s definitely ill. “Right. That is correct. Okay. So, if we can execute this sub-plan in the next week or so, we should be able to, quote, ‘get rid of’, unquote, Scratch. Excellent.”

  
“So,” Feferi says. “We can _scratch_ him out?”

  
There’s a long pause, but everyone gives the weak sort of laugh that says fondly, “Not again.” Feferi does have a fondness for puns.

  
“Yes, Feferi. Precisely,” Kankri says. He has very little sense of humor when he gets serious about something like this. “In that case, let us begin planning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if the pace is kind of slow! I promise action in the next chapter. Also, sorry for the slow updates; I had a crazy-long chem lab report to do. I try to update every week, but if not, every two weeks.
> 
> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE COMMENT SERIOUSLY I WILL LOVE YOU FOREVER


	10. Aradia: Open the Arch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You're in charge of breaking into Ampora castle and taking out Duke Scratch. 
> 
> You couldn't care less.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I would like to take this author’s note to say that every single person reading this has made me so happy because I never thought I was a good writer and now people seem to like my writing and it’s just awesome! I seriously love all of you. 
> 
> Also, a lot of the characters have pre-game characteristics, especially Damara and Mituna.

_Sleep once and sleep for a whole long year_

_Sleep twice and sleep to bring a sister to tears_

_Don’t sleep at all and watch the world float away_

_Don’t sleep at all and you’ll become the prey_   
  


==> Aradia: Open the Arch

Your name is Aradia Megido, and you’re good at breaking things.

You’ve always thought that was quite fun, even before your near-death experience. That is, the one that changed your life. Since, then everything has seemed pointless, useless. Since everyone’s going to die anyways, what’s the point?

You are fairly regularly told that you’re kind of creepy.

You don’t really care all that much.

As of presently, you’ve been told that you get to break things on this mission, which is one of the few fun things you can think of to do, because it’s got a point. Something properly destroyed is very difficult to reassemble.

Your own body is proof that nothing is impossible, but your recovery was nearly impossible and that’s good enough for you.

“Aradia?” Tavros asks nervously. “Uh...can you...uh...break down the door...and, uh, get us in?”

You nod and kick the keystone out of one the arches. The entire thing collapses, revealing a passage through the walls outside Ampora Castle to another keystone arch right next to Cronus and Eridan’s rooms. This is where you, Tavros, and all the residents of Makara Castle (plus three Knights) will enter the castle to find and capture Duke Scratch.

The man does seem to have some control over Lord English (Lord English is twenty-two years young), and you are almost certain that removing him will give your nemesis more power, but he also does know too much and this has to happen anyways.

“Follow me,” you say, leading five of eight people after you. There are there to build the wall so that it will look built but can be deconstructed in seconds, and you will only have seconds to escape. Equius, Horuss, and Gamzee are being left behind for said task. Mostly because you know they will be useless in this mission.

Second doorway. You tap three times, then once, then four times. The stones deconstruct themselves to let the six of you through. Eridan and Cronus are waiting there. “Just this way,” Eridan says. Cronus looks like he’s about to hit on you, but you fix him with a glare to kill and he cowers. Apparently your eyes look “dead”.

Or maybe he was just about to ask what the plan was, in which case he would have been met with the same response.

“Move out,” you say. The eight of you have a mission that must be completed; no sense dallying here.

Your only response is from Tavros, who asks, “Uh...Aradia? Am I, uh, guarding the…uh...the passage?”

You nod curtly. “Have no qualms about doing what you must,” you advise. You already know that he won’t be able to properly attack anyone, the main reason he is left to guard an empty tunnel. “We must go. If we do not return by three fourteen, we are dead. Leave and report to Headquarters.”

He’s shaking in his too-big shoes, but he manages a nod as you whirl around and sneak through halls towards the place where Scratch lives. It is opulent, and completely in shades of green. Except for a few white or blue items, the entire room appears to have been coated in emerald-green paint. Scratch himself is nowhere to be found.

Karkat jumps in front of you, clearly intending to take over as leader. You let him, because you honestly don’t care. “Alright, fuckers. We need some people to create a distraction on the other side of the castle. Cronus and Eridan, you guys go do that shit cuz you know your way around this damn Byzantine maze. Michael, Dave, Aradia, with me.”

You already know the choices he’s going to make and you were anticipating this, so you are already searching the kitchen rooms. There is a white, white bowl full of black, black items that you believe are candies. You wouldn’t know, as you are one of the poorer residents of Ampora Castle. Specifically speaking, you live in the outbuildings with Tavros and your mother and his uncle (who are currently married). That’s irrelevant, however. You no longer care about the past, or the future. Only about what must happen and what does.

“What is the meaning of this?”

It’s Scratch, of course. You saw this coming.

You turn and Scratch is right there, in his white suit and green shirt and bow tie. His face is actually tinted pink. He is holding a gun, a large musket.

You were not expecting that.

Because of this, an entirely different sequence of events is realized in your mind. You have one choice.

“Run,” Dave says. He grabs your hand and Michael’s hand and Michael grabs Karkat’s hand and the four of you burst into the hallways just as Eridan and Cronus’s idea of a distraction begins.

“AH HELP I’M FALLING OUT A WINDOW!” Eridan shrieks. You knew it would be something exactly that idiotic. But it wakes nearly everyone in the castle, including the other duke and duchess, and they are all wondering what the hell is going on.

You know the floor plans of the castle very well, so you lead your friends as you duck through hallways, Scratch on your heels. The entirety of everyone is awake and you’re starting to think that panic would be an appropriate response. You’re not panicking, but your allies are, and so are servants, nobles, commoners, and a variety of other people. Half are trying to find the source of Eridan’s distraction and half have joined Scratch in chasing you.

You arrive at the servant’s corridor and swerve down said hallway. Most everyone here should be fast asleep, and the nobles may be rather trepidatious about following you. But maybe it’s too clear that you are magical, because a good number of them follow you. Dammit, you’re running out of options. You know that you will make it out of here, because time says you must, but it would be rather unpleasant to go through torture and interrogation first.

Your next idea is to pour on speed, then turn several sharp corners. This would be an excellent plan, but your friends are beginning to slow. You try to pull them forwards, but there is only so much you can do.

You do try to pull ahead, and you succeed in making several sharp turns as you plunge deeper and deeper into the castle. You’re into a series of rooms with no discernable purpose now and your main advantage here is that no one but four rebels holding secret meetings ever comes here. But there is a distinct lack of corners.

You have two more things that might salvage this mission. One is to freeze time. This would allow you alone to escape, and possibly Dave. You would also not succeed in taking Scratch.

You keep running and decide the second choice is the better one.

You turn a corner, shove Michael and Karkat into a random room, and turn the opposite way as Dave. Those chasing you split evenly, and Scratch chooses to follow you. Just as you planned. If you do this right, Dave will be able to go back to the room with Michael and Karkat and get them out while you take Scratch and draw the others away from your allies.

Your feel the air around you crackle with magic and everyone clutches their ears. Most of your friends’ magics cause them to glow, but you make this high-pitched sound and make the air crackle.

You ought to work on controlling the sound.

Time freezes and you nearly fly to where Dave is. “Take them and go. I’ve got Scratch.” He nods and he’s about to run when he stops, turns around, and asks, “Why?”

“Because it must happen,” you say. There is no better answer. Why do anything? There’s no point to anything to you. No point and no use.

Dave runs, taking frozen Michael and Karkat with him. Your run the other way and are briefly surprised to discover that most of those chasing you are the women. You use your magic to bind and lift Scratch off the ground, running as far as you can before letting time continue and forcing the duke to follow you as you make several sharp, hard to follow turns. No one will follow you to your escape.

Scratch is not struggling, and if you cared, you might find this vaguely unnerving. Most men, when trapped in a web of complex and finely controlled time energy, would panic and attempt to escape. As if they could. You might find this vaguely amusing if it weren’t so futile.

Your escape route is a few hallways away, right at the keystone arch with a different crest on it. Instead of the crest of Ampora castle, the keystone bears the crest of the Magicals.

Thrice, once, four times. You have no choice but to assume that your friends have escaped. According to temporal inevitably, they must’ve. The rocks take themselves apart and you keep running, but your time energy is running out and you don’t have much time before Scratch can escape. You turn left down the third secret hallway—but wait. Was it the third or the fourth? To enter, you turned down the third, the first, then the fourth. Coming back, you’re suddenly sure it’s the opposite. You’re lost now and if you’re right, Scratch will escape any second and you’ll have to run.

You need to find help.

Your best option is to call on Tavros. He is a messenger and his powers are all to do with wind. You freeze time again and stroll to where Tavros is waiting for you. You leave a note in his hand and walk back. You’re not entirely sure what it is a bout your powers that everyone finds so amazing. So what you can freeze time? So what if you know what the future holds? You’re bored of it.

Your unfreeze time and wait, Scratch still sitting quietly in his little bubble of time. Before long, you hear footsteps and call, “Tavros! Over here!” He must hear you, because he finds you in your damp little corridor. He’s breathing hard as he braces his hands on his knees and coughs, “What is it?”

“Scratch is about to escape his time bubble and I’m lost. Incidentally, have the others made it out?”

“Uh…no. I, uh, I thought they…were with, uh, you.”

You have a feeling you should react angrily to that, but you can’t bring yourself to. You instead choose your usual apathy. “Okay. Take Scratch outside and take him out.”

Tavros looks horrified. “But we…we, uh, we said we weren’t, uh, gonna…kill him!”

“Knock him out,” you clarify.

He nods, looking relieved. “Oh. Uh, okay. What’re you, uh, gonna do?”

“I’ll search for the others. It won’t take long.” It won’t take any time at all.

“Okay. Uh, good,” he says. “See you!”

“See you.”

You let Tavros run away before freezing time again, because it does tend to disorient people when you disappear from in front of them, or appear to. You have plenty of time, at least, your relative time. You do not age when you freeze time like this; you should know. When you first discovered the true extent of your powers, you nearly died and ended up freezing time for almost a year.

Your thoughts wander as you walk through the hallways. You weren’t exactly born with much magic, but with a whole ton of magical potential. This seems to be the case with the Underground; they all have weak powers on the surface, and seem to have no more, but there is a huge, untapped well of magical energy that can be uncovered in several ways. For you, it was nearly dying. Your have a feeling that it is different for your allies, but once they find their way, they will be as powerful as any sylph or mage.

You idly search the entire castle, checking every room and hall. The nobles are still chasing something, but Dave must’ve turned them around very thoroughly, because they are currently chasing the chef’s cat.

There is a shout and you stop. It’s Dave. He’s shouting, “ARADIA, WILL YOU STOP FREEZING TIME WITHOUT WARNING, DAMMIT!” You sigh and turn in his direction. He is pinned in place by his handhold with Michael and Karkat.

“Sorry,” you say, not apologetically, but not sarcastically.

“Right. Get us out of here, will you?”

“I told you to escape. What happened?” You’re vaguely curious.

“We didn’t escape, did we? This place is fucking huge, how the fuck did you expect us to just find our way out.”

“You had to, according to the laws of temporal inevitability.”

“Whatever the fuck that means.”

“It means that there is no way for you to die here.”

“Lovely. Can we get out now?”

“Follow me.”

“Uh, Aradia?”

“Yes?”

“Unfreezing fucking time first.”

You do, and Michael and Karkat screech to a halt. “What the FUCK?” Karkat shouts. “Where the fuck did she come from?”

“I froze time,” you explain. “No time to loose, we’re leaving.”

Michael shrugs and takes the lead, Dave right behind him and Karkat trailing behind. Your short-legged friend can never quite keep up when running. This is not a problem for you, as the tallest girl you’ve ever met, including Vriska.

You soon reach the arch you need to be at and tap the crest thrice, once, four times.

It doesn’t work.

“What the shit, open the fucking arch!” Karkat screams.

“It won’t open.”

“How do you sound so fucking calm!?” Karkat yells.

“Because if we can’t open it the traditional way, we could always break down the wall. It’s just stone.”

“ARE YOU FUCKING NUTS?” Michael yells. You can hear the sounds of people chasing you getting closer. One of them, you don’t know who, rounds your corner and points at you. They shout something and start running. They’re out of shape and the hallways is long, so you don’t feel the need to freeze time. But you really ought to get your panicking friends out. Even Dave is showing signs of being nervous. But he does have a fairly level head.

“Try four-one-three,” Dave says.

“The emergency code?”

“It’s pretty much a constant state of fucking emergency now, isn’t it? I think the magic stopped responding to the normal code.”

Four, one, three. The stones of the arch collapse and the four of you escape into the dark, cold hallway that somehow seems safer than the warm, well-lit palace you have just left.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I finally figured out a schedule that I hope will work: I’ll be updating this once every two weeks. The weeks I don’t update this, I will update my other fic.


	11. Kankri: Avoid Exploding the House

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's only so much you can do without damaging something. Not to mention that someone's made what could be a fatal decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My goal for this one is to use everyone’s perspective at least once, so I’m putting off some of the harder ones for later. I also added in a creepy rhyme before each chapter, inspired by an assignment in Creative Writing to write a dark nursery rhyme.

See the mind, see the blood  
See all that’s turned to mud  
Pull the memories from the mind  
But protect yourself in kind 

==> Kankri: Avoid Exploding the House 

Your name is Kankri Vantas, and the man on the chair in front of you is as good as dead.

You’d rather think of this as a social justice cause (which it is) than a cold-blooded murder, but your conscious is pressuring you into this awkward state of internal indecision where you always seem to end up. It’s not even murder, for heaven’s sake. You’ll wipe his memory and send him away.

You cast your gaze around at your friends. Porrim, more a maternal figure than anything else (but she’s not your mother), looks on with a sort of vicious indifference covering angry pride. Damara’s practically hiding in the corner, which is expected. Rufioh looks flirtatious, of all things, and you’re deeply annoyed by this. This is serious business. Meenah, however, looks cocky and confident, even proud. Meulin has this odd look on her face, something between nausea, fear, and vengeance. This is vaguely unsettling and you’re not sure why.

“We could just kill him, you know.” The voice pierces the air like a spark and it’s shocking everyone in the room.

“No. Absolutely not,” you say immediately, shaking your head frantically. This is not murder, this society will not kill indiscriminately. Some of your friends support you, adding, “Yeah, we’re not just gonna kill him,” and the like.

“We should still get information from him,” Meenah presses, her confidence only slightly dimmed by the group’s response.

“She’s right,” Sollux says. “If we leave him there, he’ll kill us all. If we wipe his memory, we might lose some pretty important shit. If we kill him, we’re no better than he is.”

“Fine,” you concede shortly. You’d talk more, but you’ve been having throat troubles and every word you speak pains you. “Vriska, Sollux, Rose, Terezi.”

The four nod and surround Duke Scratch. Your friends who have magic and no psychics form a protective circle around the five of you and the duke. You don’t know what kinds of powers the duke might be concealing.

“Vriska, wait,” you croak. She is far too violent to be the first to probe the man’s mind. “All of you, wait.”

They nod, but none drop their guard.

You stare at the duke and let your mind race beyond his white skin and black eyes to his red blood and gray mind. Your powers work by blood: your mind can travel through the blood see inside someone quite literally. You can also use blood to read a person’s mind, because blood is the life source of the body and the brain. You suppose you faint, as you do when you use your powers to this extent, because someone kicks you and you yelp.

“What the shit, Kankri?” Sollux asks.

“He knows,” you blurt. You always think before speaking, except when it comes to waking up suddenly. You stand, dust yourself off, and add, “He knows too much. Vriska and Terezi, please cooperate.” You hope they know that you mean with each other. You’ll need all the psychic strength you can muster to extract memories from this man’s guarded mind. And it is guarded; it’s like even in his sleep, he knows what you’re trying to do.

Terezi faces the duke straight on, with Vriska stands right behind. They both brace themselves while Sollux stands to the side and holds everything in place, because you know better than most that this much psychic strength in one place will blow up the house without someone like Sollux keeping it together. As long as he doesn’t set the headquarters on fire again.

No matter how much he reminds you that “that was just once”, it was not a fun once.

“Ready, sister?” Vriska grins, addressing Terezi (as opposed to her biological sister, Aranea). Terezi rolls her eyes, you believe, and then closes them. Vriska closes her eyes, too, and then the two of them go to work. Sparks fly, hitting the magical shields. You’d love to be able to help, because you know your psychics are just as strong as the others, but only three people can fit in any one person at any one time and Terezi and Vriska have fewer qualms than a morally upright person like you.

A long time passes, but it’s also no time at all. It’s forever and no time, and you think that pretty much sums up what it’s like to use magic. Bizarre. Terezi and Vriska jump back, glowing vibrantly bright like stars for a millisecond before dulling.

“There’s a spy,” Terezi says. “A spy in our midst who is going to reveal us to the queen in one month!”

“What?” Aranea asks, alarmed. “A spy?”

Vriska nods. “Nothing we can’t take. But this douche doesn’t even know who.”

“That could be problematic,” Kanaya quips. “How will we tell who the spy is?”

“How do we know it’s not you?” Vriska asks antagonistically. You can’t help but agree, but you also can’t just exclude your friends randomly and hope. It will be impossible to tell who is the spy without making sure to check the psychics first, then using them to check the others.

“How can we prove it’s not anyone here?” Sollux asks, sending an angry glance around the room.

“Well, who is not present?” you ask. You answer yourself. “The Underground. I believe Mituna is psychic. We could use him to select the spy.”

“Do we have to?” Vriska whines.

“You’d only say that if you were the spy!” Terezi shouts.

“Haven’t you guys ever felt these psychics used on you? They fucking suck!” Meenah shouts.

“Or is it you?” Feferi asks. She and her sister do not get along.

“Your own sister!” Meenah retaliates. “You’re the queen’s daughter, too!”

“SHUT UP!” Sollux roars. Everyone does, in fact, fall quiet. You take over.

“We gain nothing by heedlessly accusing each other of this heinous crime,” you point out. “We need an impartial judge. Mituna seems to be the best choice as the strongest psychic who is unaware of the situation. Now everyone, we need to wipe his memories and send him away.”

“I’ll get right on it,” Rose says. She and Terezi stand on either side of the unconscious duke (it seems your psychics haven’t woken him) and begin to do something you won’t tell them you don’t understand. You can probe people’s minds and souls, but to wipe memories and replace them with something new is completely beyond you.

Not as if you’d ever tell anyone this.

“Gog damn,” Terezi mutters under her breath. “It’s like he’s fighting with us for the memories. Hell, we’ve outnumbered him in his own mind! What the hell is going on?”

The duke suddenly snaps awake with an angry shout, his eyes blazing. Rose and Terezi jump back, shattering the psychic link. Sollux tries to stop him, but the man is too quick and Sollux has trouble controlling people for whatever reason. So you close your eyes and let your mind flow through his blood and to his muscles. He freezes solid and your psychic friends take the chance to jump on him (figuratively speaking) and take control of his mind. It’s taking all your energy to hold him in place and not fall asleep, which you can’t do, because if you faint, your control will loosen and he might be able to break free.

The duke starts shaking and glowing as Terezi’s hands turn turquoise from her powers and Rose’s hair stands on end from hers. You’re sure your hands and feet have long since disappeared, a side effect of your magic. The invisibility must be creeping up your arms by now, but you can’t risk checking and losing your focus.

There is a sound louder than you can comprehend and you feel your entire body vibrated like a wineglass. Something definitely cracks and when the sound dissipates and you manage to open you eyes, you see blood trickling out of Meulin’s ears and Porrim running over to you to check you. “Are you okay?” she asks, scanning you for any signs of injury. “Gogdamn, Kankri, if you’ve gone and fucked yourself over again…”

“I am fine,” you insist. She’s not your mother, dam—darn it. “And your cursing in my presence has triggered—”

“Oh, shut up, stupid,” she says. Rose interrupts.

“Should we wake him up?”

“No,” you order. “Rogues, take him to the docks.” Your voice hurts so badly you don’t know if you’ll be able to say another word. But you need to get rid of the duke and they’ll never make it without a proper leader. You open your mouth and try to keep speaking but no words come out. Porrim whacks you on the back, probably assuming you’re choking, but nothing happens. You’ve completely lost your voice. You wonder if it’s the psychic explosion that just took place or something else.

“Kankri?” Rufioh asks. You mouth something in response and curse yourself for never learning sign language. You know every morally proper person like yourself should learn how to communicate with the deaf, but you don’t have time for it.

“Well, come on,” Roxy says, picking up the duke easily and gesturing for Rufioh and Nepeta to follow her. “We’ll be back in three weeks, see you soon!”

You nod tersely and watch them leave. There is silence for a long time before Meulin shouts, “WHAT DID SHE SAY?”

“Meulin, why are you shouting?” Porrim asks. The blood on her cheeks is drying, but you have a feeling that psychic explosion did more than just nearly tear down the house.

“WHAT?”

Aranea rests her head in one hand and writes for about five minutes on a piece of paper.

“DEAF?” Meulin screams. Aranea nods and walks her to another room. You sincerely hope there’s some sort of cure. You don’t have time to learn sign language or repair someone’s hearing.

“We ought to get some sleep,” you mouth. Porrim looks at you, figuring out what you’re saying, and then says, “Bed, everyone.”

You nod and everyone climbs upstairs to their rooms. You think you’ll make a cup of tea first, to see if maybe you’ll be able to speak again. You won’t hold onto your sanity for long if this cold keeps up. Possibly your life, too, but that’s not a pressing concern considering the other issues facing you.

You drink the whole cup of tea in four gulps because you’re exhausted and end up with a burnt tongue and a slightly less sore throat. You sigh and head up to the room you share with Sollux (for no adequately explained reason) and fall asleep.

You wake up with the sun, dress, and walk downstairs to make breakfast. You’re about to light the fire (it’ll take about an hour to heat up enough to cook) when suddenly Porrim stands in front of you and glares at you like you’ve just asked her about her life before the Magicals.

It’s funny; Porrim acts so angry when you ask her about her past. You already know, of course. Who could miss the way she glances at every street corner in the village, the glares she shoots some of the men she passes, or the very specialized knowledge she has of certain things? Most definitely not the Seer of Blood. She also seems to think you wouldn’t respect her anymore if you knew, which is also vaguely befuddling. You don’t respect the profession, but no one chooses it. Why should something that’s not a choice be a source of shame?

Anyways, she’s crossing her arms and tapping one foot. “Kankri?”

She’s not your mother. “Yes, Porrim?”

“Can you explain to me why, exactly, there is no food anywhere in the house?”

She’s got you there and she’s not your mother, damn—dang it. “Because we ate it all.”

“No shit, Shakespeare. But I believe it was your idea to keep food in the house at all times. Or was that your fucking clone?”

“Please do not swear so much, Porrim, it triggers me.”

“Shut up and answer the question.”

“I cannot complete both tasks at once.”

“What are you, five? Answer me!”

“I forgot to send Rose to the village to do the shopping and Vriska did not retrieve enough supplies!” you snap. Now you’re annoyed, too. And you seem to have found your voice, luckily enough.

Porrim rolls her eyes. Why does she have to be taller than you? It’s not fair. “Well, someone’s got to find something to eat, because I’m not going to run to village at this insane hour.”

“Why are you awake, anyway?” you snap moodily. She’s not your mother. And why is she awake?

“I didn’t sleep,” she shrugs.

“Why not?” Your voice is getting sore again.

“Because I didn’t sleep, gog,” she says, rolling her eyes again. “I didn’t sleep because a magical unicorn flew through the window and cursed me with an inability to sleep.”

You cross your arms and wrinkle your nose. Something about Porrim always makes you act like a little kid again, something you definitely do not want to do. “Fine. Tend the fire. I’ll be right back.”

“What do you think I’m gonna do, let the place burn down?” Porrim asks sarcastically. She throws a log carelessly on the fire, but it lands exactly right and you know she planned it that way. “Go. We can handle an hour without our fearless leader.”

You’re almost tempted to stick your tongue out at her, but you don’t. Instead, you spin on your heel and stomp out, not bothering to close the door behind you.

Days and weeks pass and no new plans or ideas emerge. Your days pass in utter uniformity and you’re sick of it. You need to do something, be somewhere, have a mission to complete. Your Underground friends do not come for the entire time and no, you do not miss a certain knight who’s not actually male and who has the prettiest turquoise eyes, that is not why you’re rather upset about the Underground not visiting at all and anyone who says that is attempting to trigger you.

The rogues return three weeks later and they still have four people. The fourth is not Duke Scratch. She is shortish, with insanely pale hair and tan skin and bright green eyes. She looks guarded and Roxy’s arm is linked with the mystery girl’s.

What the hel—heck is she thinking?

“Roxy!” Rose cries. “Who on Earth is that?”

“Everyone, this is Callie!”

“Who?” you repeat, stunned.

“Lord English’s twin sister.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry for Kankri’s characterization. A good ninety percent of it is based on how my moirail acts in cosplay. 
> 
> I also have no idea if people said “No shit, Shakespeare” (I kind of doubt it), but I love how it sounds so thanks to my sister dearest for that.


	12. Damara: Snap

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your life is miserable and you're afraid to do anything about it. Why does everyone you love just leave?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I was out of town with no computer/Internet when I was going to update this, then I forgot, so here’s a second chapter to make up for it!

_There is a place where sea and sky meet_

_And there they exchange their little treats_

_As they watch the failed birds fall from the cliff_

_And wonder as the cold bodies grow stiff_

 

==> Damara: Snap

  
It’s like someone’s dropped a bombshell in the room. “Lord English has a sister?” “What?” “What the fuck?” “ _Who_?”

  
“Whoa, dudes, calm down. This is Callie. Lord English chucked her out on the streets when he came to power. She’s his twin sister.”

  
“Calm?” Aranea shrieks. “ _Calm?_ ”

  
“Yeah, you heard me,” Roxy nods. “We gotta be cool as cucumbers. Cool as ice. Callie’s gonna help us.”

  
Callie sits nervously on the edge of someone’s (someone in the Underground’s) chair. “I’m here to help the Magicals,” she says. “Because he and I have opposite magic and because he threw me out on the streets.” There’s real pain in her voice, the pain of a girl who has no family left anywhere in the world.

  
“See?” Roxy says. “One-hundred percent trustworthy, Lalonde seal of approval.”

  
Kankri drops his guard and the others slowly follow suit. “Pull up a chair!” Roxy says. “We’re having dinner. Veggie stew and bread.”

  
Callie nods. “It’s very nice,” she almost whispers, but it’s very sincere. “Is this house safe?”

  
“Our home is safe,” Rose affirms. “Our magic can detect spies and spying devices. You’re safe as long as you’re here. Out there, we can make no promises.”

  
Callie nods. “My magic is entirely defensive. I can protect myself out there,” she says.

  
“You would like to join us, yes?” Kankri asks. If he could afford a pair of eyeglasses, he’d straighten them right then. “You’ll need a title.”

  
“May I be a Muse?” she requests. It’s a title that’s been given to one other person, as far as you know. “The Muse of…”

  
“Space,” Jade says, perhaps feeling an instinctive bond with the other girl. After all, if Lord English is twenty-two, so is she. Not so much older than you.

  
“Muse of Space, welcome,” Porrim says. You don’t have any sort of initiation here; anyone who wants to join can. Callie manages half a smile. She must be nervous. You think about the already insane risk of fighting Lord English, combine that with the fact that he’s her brother, and decide that despite her demure appearance, she must be incredibly brave.

  
You haven’t spoken yet. Of course you haven’t; you don’t have, have never had, the courage to interject your own voice into a conversation. But maybe you could try.

  
“Callie?” you almost whisper.

  
“Oh, hello, love.” She says it like “luv”, you can tell from the way she says it. “Who’re you?”

  
“Damara,” you say timidly. “Damara Megido.”

  
“Nice to meet you!” she says, smiling kindly and politely. “I’m Callie. But you knew that already.”

  
You nod, intimidated by her bright, bright smile. You drop your head to stare at your lap and play with your hands nervously. Social anxiety, Rose called it. Being so afraid that people won’t like you that you can’t even bring yourself to speak, compounded by natural shyness of course. Being around people just makes you so damn _nervous_.

  
Callie taps you on the shoulder and you jump. You turn to face her, her eyes full of concern. “Are you alright, luv?”

  
“Fine,” you whisper. “Uh...I’ve just got social anxiety,” you say all in one breath.

  
“Social anxiety?” Callie asks. “That’s alright. Everyone has struggles!”

  
You nod and turn away because if she looks at you for one more second, you’ll just collapse on the spot. You can’t stand being looked at. Callie seems to notice and turns away, too, leaving you in solitary peace.

  
“Hey Dam-dam!” Meenah shouts to you. Not this again. You brace yourself for the onslaught.

  
“Engaged again?” Meenah teases cruelly. “Is someone’s true love come back for them?” She laughs at you and your friends shoot her angry glares, because they know you’re too afraid. Resentment heats in you like a fire, bubbling the waters of your mind almost to a boil. But nothing shows on your face as you stammer, “Leave me alone.” When you were engaged, you were in love with the man you were engaged to. Then he died and you thought you’d lost him forever. And then you ran away from home and discovered that he wasn’t dead at all, and that your love was completely one-sided. You’re not even sure Rufioh loves women. You hate talking about the whole carriage wreck, but Meenah won’t stop bringing it up and she knows it hurts you. You suppose she’s trying to goad you into reacting, but you can’t. You just can’t.

  
“Aw, poor little Damara, feeling all down on our poor little heart, are we?” Meenah taunts. You want to sob, or scream, or something, but you’re too afraid.

  
“Stop it,” Roxy says. “Can’t you see she’s upset?”

  
“Oh, lighten up, girl,” Meenah laughs. You wish you had the strength to stand up for yourself, but Roxy and your friends always end up doing it for you.

  
“I’m going to bed,” you say, almost running upstairs to your room. You hate Meenah! You hate, hate, hate her! Why won’t she leave you alone? What have you ever done to her? No one even listens to you! None of your friends even care! The only thing keeping you together right now is that your sister is coming home in a few days and you’ll be able to see her again. Some of your friends don’t understand how you can worry so much about your sister because you ran away and she didn’t, but she’s your little sister and she’s already nearly died once. You can’t just not care about your baby sister.

  
You look over at the other bed in the room and sigh, curling your knees up to your chest and burying your face so no one can see. A long time ago, you chose to share a room with a nighttime worker so you’d have it to yourself in the day because you would not be able to cope with sharing a room. Just your luck that your assigned roommate is Rufioh. You’d change rooms, but you don’t want to be a burden and the only other room with an empty space is Meulin’s, but now Nepeta sleeps there when she can and anyways, Meulin works in the day like you.

  
You hardly even see Rufioh, but he occupies half your room and that’s plenty enough to make you sadder every night.

  
Days pass and you barely speak to anyone. Meenah taunts you constantly, worse than she ever has before. You can barely suppress your anger and resentment, but you manage it. You don’t want to make things harder on anyone by getting angry.

  
Finally, the day the Underground comes home arrives. Your day at the market seems to last forever, and your friends’ nerves aren’t making it easier. Kankri’s obviously on edge; you’re not sure why, though. So are Meulin, and Terezi. You have no particular job at home, because all you do is really clean up and sometimes run errands. So you’re left to keep an eye on the door and worry.

  
And worry you do, until the four from Ampora castle arrive. Cronus first, Tavros following a moment later. You wonder where the other two are, until Eridan walks in, carrying your sister. He sets her on the couch, his face completely white. Tavros taps you on the shoulder and you turn, tears welling up in your eyes. She’s not dead, she can’t be dead. It’s impossible. Tavros’s legs are completely mangled and you wonder how he made it here. He opens his mouth, but he can’t seem to say anything. You turn to Cronus, who you know better than Eridan, and he just says, “There were these wolves…barely got out alive.”

  
You shake your head. You can’t speak. You think about your options. You could go back in time to save her, but that would create an endless loop of impossibility (you’ve taken to the word paradox for that) and you can’t create one of those. You could freeze time and talk to her, but she’s dead and freezing time won’t help anything.

  
“Get Aranea,” you manage to say. Someone nods and leaves and you wish someone cared about you enough to stay here next to you, but they don’t. You had only your sister and your love and now you love doesn’t care and your sister is dead.

  
Not dead. Not yet. You won’t accept it.

  
Aranea and Kanaya rush in. They prop Aradia up between them and Aranea examines her. “Severe wounds to the limbs…definitely some internal injuries…possible head trauma…I’m not sure there’s anything we can do, Damara.”

  
“You can’t just let her die!” you scream, then clamp your hands over your mouth. “I-I’m sorry…”

  
“It’s okay,” Aranea brushes off, focusing on her work. She and Kanaya clearly need to be left alone. But you can’t leave, not when your sister is near dead like this.

  
“Kanaya, check her head,” Aranea orders. Kanaya nods and moves your sister’s waist-length hair around, checking for bruises.

  
“Right side near the temple,” Kanaya says. “Likely the cause of unconsciousness.”

  
“That or pain,” Aranea says.

  
Kanaya nods in agreement. “Can’t do anything about that. You?”

  
Aranea shakes her head.

  
“Isn’t there anything you can do?” you plead.

  
“We’ll do our best,” Kanaya says. “You can do ahead and join the meeting.”

  
“But…” you start to say, but she’s right. You stand and head to the other room, where Kankri is serving dinner. You sit in one of the last empty chairs, trying to shrink so no one can see you. You don’t want anyone to ever see you again.

  
Aranea and Kanaya walk in a few minutes later without your sister. They wear tired looks and they take two of three remaining seats. There is only one reason they wouldn’t have your sister with them, only one reason they would leave her in that condition.

  
You bite back a scream and start hyperventilating. Your sister was just sixteen! She had everything, a whole forty or maybe fifty years left for her to live! It’s not fair, it’s not fair, it’s not fair! You cover your nose and mouth with your hands, fingertips digging into your skin, and close your eyes tightly so no tears can fall out.

  
The meeting hasn’t started yet; it’s still dinner. Meenah is right across from you and she’s giving you this sort of look like you’re just an easy target. She opens her mouth to speak and you brace yourself once more.

  
“Poor little Damara, what’s gone wrong now.”

  
You can’t speak, you can’t even open your mouth. It’s impossible.

  
“Love of your life left for another man?”

  
“Stop—” you try, but you can’t continue.

  
“You know he’ll never love you, right? You know he’ll never love you back? You’re pathetic, still pining after him like that! And crying? Wow.”

  
Tears catch in you throat and your sobs hurt like hell, hurt worse than the cuts from the thorns that you ran through escaping home that got infected and did not heal fully for a month.

  
“Crybaby!” Meenah taunts. “Poor little Damara!”

  
Why won’t she just leave you alone? Your sister is dead. Your love is a hopelessly lost cause. Your friends hate you. Your parents think you’re dead. You have nothing left.

  
And you’re angry. What have you ever done to deserve this? You’ve always been resentful of being ignored, but you’ve never hurt anyone. Your parents never loved you, your love never loved you, your friends never cared, and your sister died before you. You haven’t done anything to deserve all this.

  
Blinding rage and despair and something that might be insanity fill your mind and you black out.

  
You come to at the edge of a cliff. Memories shoot like fever dreams through your mind. What have you done? What have you _done_?

  
The images can’t be real. It’s impossible. But you open your mouth and English won’t come out, and you examine your hands and they are scarred and slashed where they shouldn’t be. There is a long bread knife tucked into your belt and you panic. You rip the cursed, blood-coated thing out and hurl it over the edge of the cliff as hard as you can. It lands with a clang.

  
From your place on this cliff, you can see where the sky and the sea meet. The sun is just beginning to set and the blue is tinted with apple reds and daffodil yellows. The flowers growing in the lush forest around you are deep burgundy and you think how much your sister would like them before you remember she’s dead, she’s dead, everyone and everything is dead. You pick one flower and wonder if it’s poisonous. You don’t know for sure, but you shove it down your throat for good measure.

  
Your plan is obvious to you, the same way all of time was obvious to your little sister. Your feet are hard to move, but you manage it. One foot in front of the other. One step, solid ground. Two steps, crumbling dirt. Three steps, sliding gravel. Four steps, nothing at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gentle reminder that Damara was described as “meek as can be” before she snapped.


	13. Jane: Wait

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> You are sick to death of waiting. You just want to do something for once in your life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This backtracks to what’s going on in the Underground while Scratch is being gotten rid of.

_Little princess in her tower_

_Wielding only superficial power_

_Waiting for friend to save the day_

_A pain no water will wash away_

 

==> Jane: Wait

  
You’ve spent your entire life waiting. You never get anything to do; you’re supposed to be passive. First, you were a child; be seen, not heard. Then, you were an engaged girl; get married, don’t make a fuss. After that, your future husband died and you told your parents you wanted to be a nun; don’t make noise, just meditate and pray. You’re not actually going to be a nun, of course. But the point still stands. And even now, you’re the Maid of Life. What does that even mean? You have some healing powers, but you don’t have powerful magic and you have no control over your own life. You’re a pawn.

  
Not to mention your parents have been fussing over you recently. What with Duke Scratch being kidnapped and all, they think you’re next on the list. You haven’t been out of the castle in weeks. Weeks! You’re going stir-crazy.

  
“Jane!” your twin brother calls. “Jane! I’ve been looking for you.”

  
“What is it, Jake?” you ask. You wonder why your parents gave the four of you such similar names.

  
“Roxy said she gave you something for me.”

  
Of course. It’s not you, it’s what you’ve been given. “In my room. Come on.” Jake is always so excited about everything; you wonder how he manages it. “She brought diagrams.” Jake nods and grins excitedly. “I’m about to infil—” He cuts himself off. Good thing, too. He drops his voice and continues. “I’m about to infiltrate the queen’s court like the heroes in books!”

  
“You sure are.”

  
“I can’t wait!”

  
“I bet you can’t.”

  
“I wonder what sort of adventures I’ll encounter?”

  
“Yeah.”

  
He finally notices your lack of enthusiasm and cocks his head to the side like a confused little cat. “Jane? Is everything gung-ho with you?” Hell, does he still talk like that? You thought that was a phase.

  
“Fine,” you smile. “I’m great, in fact! Mother and Father are so happy with me being a nun—” No they’re not. “—And I’ve got so many jobs to do— ” No you don’t. “—I’m just never bored!” Yes you are.

  
“That’s lovely, sister!” His smile nearly splits his face in two. Lucky bastard. He actually gets to do something.

  
 “I said, my room.”

  
 “Spiffing!” You could just about punch his lights out right now, the stupid prick. You lead him to the place where you’ve hidden the schematics and other diagrams for Jake to use. Because he’s got a real job, not this useless waiting around and message delivering you’re stuck with.

  
You feel rage building in your gut and you can’t stand to be around him much longer. So you run to your room, shove the plans into his hands, and push him out the door. You slam the door shut and try not to scream, because you are not alone in this palace.

  
But you can’t hold it all in and you instead start crying, angry tears. They’re unlike the grieving tears you’ve shed before; this is pure anger and rage and desire to hurt someone or something and since it’s not going to be anyone else, it’s going to be you.

  
You bite down hard on your finger in an attempt to silence your tears. No one can know. No one can know how you feel because if they knew, they’d think you’re crazy. Isn’t this what women are supposed to be? Perpetually waiting for to be free enough to do something? Hysterical when things don’t go their way? You’re just angry that you’re so damn stuck here!

  
That night, there is a knock on your window. Thrice, once, four times. You thought no one was coming till tomorrow! You sigh and open the window to see Roxy pinned against the wall. “Janey!” she cries, jumping in and hugging you. She pulls off her eyemask and hood to reveal messy hair and a wide grin that tell you she’s not here to exchange information.

  
“Why’re you here?” You didn’t mean to sound that belligerent.

  
“To see my best friend, of course!” Roxy says, her smile widening. “I never get to see you anymore! How’re things going?”

  
“Fine,” you say.

  
“Fine? That’s less that okay! That’s too much less than okay for me to put up with!” Roxy exclaims.

  
“Don’t worry about me,” you say, attempting to distract her from attempts to make you feel better. “What about you?”

  
“Well, I’ve had to be super careful, but I’ve been avoiding Scratch like he’s a person and I’m one of those flies that just sort of flies around and you can’t catch even though you know it’s there,” she says with a mischievous sort of smile that should scare you, but she’s your best friend, so it doesn’t. Roxy was even your friend before the Magicals, when all eight of you lived in this castle and it wasn’t terrifying when someone knocked on your door. You miss not being afraid. You miss your old life.

  
You’re different to your friends in that respect. They all threw themselves headfirst into this crazy thing. You were far more careful because you are quite happy the way you are. You don’t want to end up with your head on a stake as a warning to all who might consider rebellion. You don’t want to lay down your life for this. You know it’s wrong, but isn’t there a less perilous way?

  
You don’t want to see Roxy dangling from a noose. You don’t want Jake’s head separated from his body. You don’t want John set on fire from his feet. You don’t want Jade pulled apart by four horses running opposite directions. You don’t want to watch your friends die in horrific ways.

  
How could anyone risk that?

  
“Look, Roxy, don’t risk your life to come see little old me!” you joke.

  
“Don’t be silly, Janey! You’re my best friend forever.”

  
Roxy is amazing. She always makes you feel better every time you see her. “Thanks, Roxy. I’m just a little nervous. Cuz it’s the middle of the day and all, everyone’s out and of course they need to talk to the princess.”

  
“Oh, that’s rough, Janey,” Roxy says sympathetically. She was a princess once, too. She must remember it.

  
“Thanks, Roxy,” you say. You’re about to continue when someone knocks on your door.

  
“ _Shit_ ,” Roxy hisses. You open a closet door and shove her in. Please, please, please let this not be your mother. She’s open your closet to help you pick a dress for some occasion and the game would be up.

  
Luckily, it’s an attendant. “Miss, you’ve been called to come to the queen’s court.”

  
“Oh. Pray I ask, why?”

  
“She’d like to speak with Miss Jane Crocker.”

  
The queen wants to talk to you! You wonder what this is about and decide you don’t care. You’re too excited to care. “C-Coming,” you stammer, running a brush through your hair. You cut most of it off to maintain the illusion that you wish to be a nun, but what remains is messy and hard to tame. You throw on some nice lace-up shoes and hope your dress doesn’t look too bad. You hope Roxy knows to go.

  
You walk to the antechamber and wait to be called in. You’re all alone in here and you’re starting to calm down from your initial near-panic. It’s just the queen! Who you’re both loyal to and rebelling against. This couldn’t get much crazier and panic-worthy.

  
“Miss Jane Crocker,” an attendant calls. You take a deep breath, set your shoulders back, and walk into the queen’s throne room.

  
It’s huger than you imagined, pink and gold everywhere. Magenta stained glass with gold arches, a ceiling done all in shades of fuchsia and silver, a rose-colored carpet with golden fringe. It makes you nervous to walk on this carpet with your shoes on. The queen lazes in her throne on the opposite end of the room and you force yourself to remain steady in your simple shoes and dress suited to one who’s suppose to go to a convent in six months.

  
“Jane!” the queen exclaims. “Right. Exactly the princess to get the job done. I can rely on you, right?”

  
“Of course, Your Majesty,” you say, curtseying deeply. What does she want from you?

  
“Great, excellent. You’re such a good girl, Jane. You’re the best one to get a job done. The others, they’re far too headstrong and rebellious to trust with a job this important to the well-being of the kingdom.”

  
“Thank you,” you whisper. You can’t believe it. The queen is calling you reliable! She’s calling you good! The queen! You could faint from excitement. But…

  
“What job would you like me to do, Your Majesty?”

  
“It’s simple, really. I’ve heard of this little group of ‘revolutionaries’ that might include your brothers, though I’m sure you have no part in it.” She gives you a piercing gaze.

  
“N-No, Your Highness,” you stammer. “Of course not.”

  
“Right, of course. Anyways, I need you to tell me where they’ll all be on a certain day.”

  
Oh. She wants you to give them up.

  
“Infiltrate them. Make them trust you. And then just tell me where. No names, nothing but what they look like and where they’ll be.”

  
“Will anyone get hurt?” Oh shit, did you just say that out loud? You didn’t mean to! You just don’t want to see anyone hurt.

  
But she doesn’t seem angry with you. “Of course not, dear. No one will get hurt. You do want to help the kingdom, right?”

  
“Of course, Your Majesty.”

  
“And I can trust you with this task, can I not?”

  
“Yes, Your Highness.”

  
“Then just tell me where they are.”

  
You consider for a second. This would be betrayal. You would be giving away your friends’ locations and possibly placing them in danger. But…this is the queen! And surely it can’t do any harm to just tell her where they’ll be. She won’t even know their names!

  
And…

  
You could actually do something! And anyways, the queen can’t be all bad. She’s the queen, after all. And this kingdom isn’t in shambles. It may have its difficulties, but nothing that can’t be dealt with. Nothing that can’t be dealt with through a few new policies and some reform. You don’t need a full on revolution. All you have to do it tell the queen where the rebels will be. All you have to do. You don’t need to hurt anyone.

  
“All you have to do is tell me where they are going to be on the day my nephew gets married. No one gets hurt, and no one dies. That’s all you need to do.” Right. Eridan’s getting married to someone in the Underground in a couple months. You could easily ask around about that, about whoever his bride is and the time and where people will be. You can frame it as curiousity or gathering information. It shouldn’t be too hard, even a little bit hard. Really, it ought to be simple. Like she said. Unless your friends start to suspect you...

  
“But...what if they catch me?” you ask nervously.

  
“They won’t. You’re a clever girl. Don’t worry about it,” the queen assures you with a kind smile.

  
You think on it a little more, still dithering over this simple and obvious choice. If no one gets hurt, what’s the problem? She’s the queen; surely she’s not plotting anything horrible. It’s not like she wants to kill all of you or anything!

  
“No one has to die.”

  
She’s right. No one will die. Your friends won’t get hurt. All you’re doing is helping out the queen! And maybe you can work it both ways, doing some spying on the queen. Some, anyways. She trusts you and you don’t want to ruin that.

  
 _No one has to die_.

  
“Yes,” you say. “I’ll do it.”

 


End file.
